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\ 



THE MAN 
IN THE BASEMENT 


BY 

BARON PALLE ROSENKRANTZ 

AUTHOR OF 

** Royal Lon}e” **The Widoav/' **The Daughter 
of the Regiment f'* etc. 




NEW YORK 

EMPIRE BOOK COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


njfcftARY cf CONCRFrSS 

< i wo Cooled 

! CC\ 30 


I 

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uppvriffbf Entry 

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01.ASS l\ 

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COPY B. 


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Copyright, 1907, by 
PALLE ROSENKRANTZ 


Entered at Stationers' Hall 
All rights reserved 


CONTENTS 


BOOK I 

PAGE 

No. 48 Cranbourne Grove ... 7 

BOOK 11 

Lokken . . . . . . . Ill 

BOOK III 

Amy’s Cat ...... 237 


BOOK I 


NO. 48 CRANBOURNE GROVE 


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THE 


MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

BOOK I 

NO. 48 CRANBOURNE GROVE 
CHAPTER I 

“ It’s dirt cheap, sir — dirt cheap. Three and 
a half guineas a week for the whole house, com- 
pletely furnished, studio at the top, two reception 
rooms, large dining-room, and three bedrooms. 
Kitchen with gas-stove, electric light, not to men- 
tion the garden. Dirt cheap it is. It is only a 
fortunate combination of circumstances that en- 
ables me to offer you the house — to offer it to 
you for three and a half guineas a week.” 

Mr. Sydney Armstrong gave a smack of the 
tongue and a twist to his brown leggings. 

Mr. Sydney Armstrong’s get-up was sporting 
— a covert coat, tweed knickerbockers, and tan 
leggings. 


8 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


But his game at present was house-hunters. 
That was how he made his living. The business 
was still young, and the staff consisted of him- 
self and a lady clerk. 

His office was in Gloucester Road, South Ken- 
sington, close to the District Railway station. 

Mr. Sydney Armstrong, however, was now 
standing in the hall of a neat little house in Cran- 
bourne Grove — ^it was No. 48 — a little detached 
house in a garden, behind a high wall. A regu- 
lar country house in the middle of South Ken- 
sington, close to the Museum, handy for omni- 
buses and for the Underground, altogether very 
convenient. 

Mr. Sydney Armstrong was doing a bit of 
business. He tried to appear as if it did not mat- 
ter in the least whether it came off or not. But it 
did matter, for there was five pounds to be made, 
and five pounds in something to a young house 
agent. That was why Mr. Sydney Armstrong 
was vigorously chewing his mustache, while 
doing his best to look as if he did not care. 

The bird was almost caught; it was fluttering 
already in Mr. Sydney Armstrong’s net. It was 
dirt cheap for such a house. Three months fur- 
nished for three and a half guineas a week. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 9 


It was a Danish bird, and he was working it 
out in Danish money. “ Three and a half 
guineas is more than three and a half pounds,” 
he said to himself. “ A guinea is an obsoleh 
tradition of former days, and it means a pound 
and a shilling, goodness knows why.” 

So that three and a half guineas came to three 
pounds, thirteen shillings and sixpence, or sixty- 
five crowns in Danish money. 

That was more than Holger Nielsen had 
thought of paying. But then there was a studio, 
and it was altogether a charming little house. 
Besides, Holger Nielsen was not the only person 
in it. It was arranged between him and Doctor 
Jens Koldby that they should take a house in 
London — a proper English house, not a flat in 
one of the huge new buildings with a hundred 
tenants apiece, but a regular old-fashioned Eng- 
lish house — with a garden. And Madam Sivert- 
sen was to keep house for them for three months. 
Madam Sivertsen had been fourteen years a 
stewardess on an Atlantic liner and was perfect 
in English. There must be a studio, as Dr. 
Koldby was an artist and was going to paint. 

Holger Nielsen also bit his mustache, which 
was a small pale-brown one, and looked at Mr. 


10 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Sydney Armstrong to see whether there was 
anything to be knocked off. 

‘‘ Shall we say three pounds ten? ” said Holger 
Nielsen. 

“In London we always reckon in guineas,” 
said Mr. Sydney Armstrong. “ It’s dirt cheap. 
The house is not mine; it belongs to an officer 
who has gone to Burma. I have my orders. It 
ought to be four guineas — I may go to three and 
a half, but not a halfpenny less.” 

Mr. Sydney Armstrong took stock of his 
game. He tried to look superior, but the attempt 
recoiled on his thin yellow mustache. 

“ It’s too much,” said Holger Nielsen. 

Mr. Sydney Armstrong shrugged his shoul- 
ders. “ Let us go, then! ” He was not going to 
give in. If he let the house for three and a half 
guineas he was to have five pounds; if for less, it 
only gave him three pounds. So he was firm. 

Holger Nielsen was taken with the house. 

He hesitated. Mr. Sydney let go his mus- 
tache and began to hope again. 

“ Let me have another look at the house,” said 
Holger Nielsen. They went in. 

The entrance was small and narrow; it led to 
a passage about twelve feet long and four broad. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 11 


from which a staircase went up ; beyond that the 
passage became narrower, leading to the kitchen 
in the basement. On either side of the corridor 
there was a door leading to two rooms, each of 
which had a window of the full height of the 
walls, and at the back was a door to the little gar- 
den with two oblong grass plots and a few fig 
trees and laurels. The two rooms on the ground 
floor were large, richly carpeted, and filled with 
old inlaid furniture and low, comfortable chairs. 
Light was the chief thing wanting, and for that 
reason there was plenty of wall space. From the 
room on the right as one entered a door led to a 
passage at the back, and across that to a large 
and lofty dining-room, which was lighted en- 
tirely by a skylight. It was quite a hall, but it 
was dark. The furniture was of old oak, heavy 
and dark, and the floor was covered with lino- 
leum. This was new, and Mr. Sydney Arm- 
strong was proud of it. 

‘‘ It’s rather dark here,” said Holger Nielsen. 

“ It always is on the ground floor of a Lon- 
don house,” said Mr. Sydney Armstrong, “ but 
look upstairs.” 

Upstairs it was really bright and nice. There 
were two bedrooms close to the staircase, look- 


12 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


ing out on to the garden, on the sunny side, and 
the sun was obliging enough to assist Mr. Syd- 
ney Armstrong; it shone quite powerfully 
through the pretty little windows, and the spar- 
rows chirruped outside in the trees of the garden. 
They wanted to help their countryman. 

And then the studio. It was bathed in sun- 
light from a large side window in the roof. 

This sunshine finished Holger Nielsen’s hesi- 
tion. He tried to keep to his pounds, but the 
time-honored English guineas carried the day. 
The sun had given Mr. Sydney Armstrong his 
advantage; for the sun is rare in London, es- 
pecially in South Kensington, with its low posi- 
tion near the foggy river. 

“ Shall I sign the agreement? ” asked Holger 
Nielsen. 

A great sigh of relief took the form of a 
Yes. The bird was no longer struggling in the 
net. 

Holger Nielsen signed an agreement with Mr. 
Sydney Armstrong and paid half a crown for 
the stamp. Nothing more. 

“ The owner pays all costs,” said Mr. Sydney 
Armstrong ; he had won now and could aff ord to 
be amiable. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 13 


“ Who is the owner? asked Nielsen. He had 
a foreigner’s curiosity to know whose house he 
lived in. 

“Major Johnson,” said Mr. Sydney Arm- 
strong. “ He’s gone to Burma. Just sailed. I 
have a power of attorney. It’s a strange story; 
a pure piece of luck that you have this charming 
house. Major Johnson only bought it a week 
ago. That’s a fact; bought it of a friend, who 
had inherited it from his mother — I forget the 
name. I never can remember names ; it’s a great 
disadvantage to me in my business, but I can’t 

remember names. This Mr. , whatever 

his name was, sold the house to Major Johnson, 
and the next day the Major had to go abroad. 
No help for it. He had to go. He was to have 
been married, his fiancee broke it off, and he had 
to go. That sort of thing happens in countries 
that have colonies. You may be glad Denmark 
has no colonies except Spitzbergen. Well, that’s 
all about it. Major Johnson had to leave. He’s 
gone. His friends say he was ready to jump for 
joy at getting rid of his mother-in-law that was 
to be and his former intended. That’s quite 
likely.” 

Mr. Sydney Armstrong became jocular. It 


14 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


was the five pounds he had succeeded in landing 
that had this effect on him. 

“But the furniture?” asked Holger Nielsen. 

“ The Major bought the furniture with the 
house. What’s-his-name, the heir, the former 
owner, or his sister, had been living here until a 
week ago. Then he sold the house to the Major, 
at his club, I believe. The whole thing was set- 
tled on the spot, and off he went.” 

“What became of him?” asked Holger Niel- 
sen. 

“ I don’t know,” was the answer. “ I don’t 
know him. But he was unmarried.” 

Holger Nielsen looked about him. 

“ The furniture looks as if there had been a 
lady in the house. Don’t you think so? ” 

“ Yes,” thought Mr. Sydney Armstrong. “ It 
must have been the former owner’s sister and her 
husband. He it was who arranged the studio. 
He paints, I believe. But, as I said, I don’t 
know anything about the family. Major John- 
son is my client. He’s good enough; he’s one 
of the Yorkshire Johnsons — but, of course, you 
don’t know them.” 

Holger Nielsen did not know the Yorkshire 
Johnsons. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 15 

So he accompanied Mr. Sydney Armstrong 
to the latter’s office in Gloucester Road, and the 
agreement was signed. 

It was a first-rate house, and it would come 
to about thirty-two crowns a week each for 
twelve weeks, for him and Dr. Koldby. 

They could afford that, and Holger Nielsen 
had the doctor’s authority to conclude the affair; 
in fact, he had undertaken to do so before the 
first of May. For on that day Dr. Koldby and 
Madam Sivertsen were to arrive, and they ex- 
pected to find everything in order. 

It was now the 29th of April, so it was high 
time the business was ended. Nielsen went back 
to his boarding-house, content, on the whole, with 
his bargain. 


CHAPTER II 


Holger Nielsen was, as we have said, a Dane; 
he had taken a legal degree, was the son of a gov- 
ernment official, his age was thirty-two, and he 
was by way of being a man of science. He had 
had an appointment in one of the Ministries, but 
had given it up on account of a certain stiffness 
of the back which prevented him from cringing 
to his superiors. Then he had tried the law, but 
that did not suit him either. Here again it was 
that tiresome back of his, that was not supple 
enough before his clients. So he went in for 
criminology, and horrified all his conservative re- 
lations with his radical views. He was an only 
son, and his mother had had a fortune. Both 
his parents were now dead. So he lived on his 
means and for his interests, or rather for his only 
interest, criminology. It was his ambition to 
open up new paths ; he soon discovered that new 
paths were not to be opened up, and his ambi- 
tion disappeared; but his interest remained, and 
this brought him to London, to study English 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 17 


criminal procedure at close quarters. He was 
writing a work on “ Crime,” which might take 
ten lifetimes, and took all he had. Holger Niel- 
sen was a strong and healthy man, and he did 
not sit in his chair and read. He avoided books ; 
it was the living material he studied. Not by 
creeping about in so-called criminal quarters and 
shuddering at ruffianly types; he had not come 
to London to turn his coat inside out and make 
the traditional trip to Whitechapel with two or 
three coppers in his pocket. He wanted to ob- 
serve the people of a great town at close quarters 
and try to learn the conditions of their every- 
day life as a starting-point from which to arrive 
at the abnormal conditions. 

He wanted to get his bearings in London. 

This visit was only to be introductory. He 
wished to get accustomed to the language, and 
to follow the ordinary daily events of the street 
and the police court, so as later on to arrive at 
what lay behind all this. 

Perhaps his plan was not very methodical, but 
he had a right to allow for accidents. 

On May 1st came Dr. Koldby and Madam 
Sivertsen, and then the daily life at 48 Cran- 
bourne Grove was to begin. 


18 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


At 7:35 the train arrived from Harwich with 
the two Danish passengers. They had come by 
Esbjerg and had stayed on board the boat till 
the next morning, to avoid arriving in London at 
night. 

Holger Nielsen moved his things from a 
wretched boarding-house in Brompton Road to 
his new home, where he did the honors — in sun- 
shine once more — to the new arrivals. 

It was a success. 

Madam Sivertsen had her cabin in the base- 
ment, next door to the kitchen. There was a 
skylight in the ceiling and it was rather dark, but 
Madam Sivertsen was easily satisfied. She was 
accustomed to narrow quarters, though age had 
made her rather corpulent. She carried her 
sixty years and her thirteen stone easily 
enough. Now she had been idle for a fortnight, 
she remarked, and now she would set to work. 

She did so. A London house that has been 
left to itself even for a week offers a fine field 
for an active Danish woman who is fond of order 
and cleanliness. 

And Madam Sivertsen was one of that sort. 

She went to work. 

Dr. Koldby investigated the studio and 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 19 


grunted with satisfaction. It was as it should 
be. The Doctor had already unpacked his 
sketches and his colors, had set up his easel and 
got his canvases ready. He wanted to make 
sketches of the river and the docks ; that was the 
object of his journey. He also wished to study 
Turner at the National Gallery. 

Koldby was a marine painter and doctor of 
medicine. 

The latter against his will — ^his father had 
forced him into the profession thirty years ago 
or more. When the old country doctor was 
obliging enough to give up the ghost at Thisted 
in Jutland, Hans Koldby threw his stethoscope 
and instruments into a corner and invested the 
old man’s hard-earned dollars in colors and can- 
vas. The sea attracted him. He sailed in a 
bark to Mexico, was wrecked on the coast of 
Florida, grew pineapples there, and gradually 
came north to New York, painting and wander- 
ing about; reached home again, exhibited, got 
into hot water with the fine art professors, went 
to Egypt and painted sphinxes and pyramids for 
a flour merchant, came home with them and had 
more flghts with the professors. Meanwhile he 
had grown into an old fogy of about sixty. But 


20 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


he kept his hack stiff and his spirits young. One 
Christmas Eve in Rome he met Holger Nielsen, 
and they took a liking to one another. It devel- 
oped into a friendship such as two rather bluff 
men can form; and the friendship lasted. 

Dr. Koldby loved sunshine ; it warmed his stiff 
back, as he said. He was a sun-worshiper, with 
a bias towards Mohammedanism, which he had ac- 
quired in Egypt. There he had also learned to 
detest wine. In many ways he was a good Mus- 
sulman. The only fault he found with the doc- 
trines of the Prophet was in polygamy. Dr. 
Koldby detested women; and although he ad- 
mitted that his hatred of the weaker sex was un- 
justified, in so far as women had never done him 
any harm, he held fast to his aversion. He con- 
sidered that it had saved him from many disap- 
pointments ; but he nevertheless had to admit that 
the fine art professors of Copenhagen were even 
worse than women. And, like the wives of Mus- 
sulmans, there was also a plurality of these idiots. 

That was the thorn in the Doctor’s flesh, and 
nothing would move it. 

Otherwise he was reasonable and straightfor- 
ward. 

But those confounded professors were his exe- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 21 

cration, and he could not conceal it. To tell the 
truth, he never attempted to do so, either. 

He was a Radical, and he let other people mind 
their own business. So they let him alone to 
mind his, and he never sold his pictures. And he 
never exhibited either. He would have liked to 
see himself exposing his work to the gaze of 
those blockheads ! 

Such a man was Dr. Koldby. 

But the sun was shining into the Cranbourne 
Grove studio and it warmed Dr. Koldby’s back. 
It showed to advantage some sketches he had 
made on the Esbjerg boat in a choppy sea near 
the Dogger Bank, with a number of trawlers. 

And he remarked to himself that everything 
was as it should be. 


CHAPTER III 


The first night in the new house Holger Niel- 
sen could not sleep. It was not because he was 
not tired; he was always tired in London, the 
long distances tired him, and he hated under- 
ground railways. Sitting outside omnibuses was 
cold, and sitting inside them was not pleasant; 
cabs were too expensive. Besides he wanted to 
he in the midst of the life of the streets, to see 
the stream of people, in which the individual dis- 
appeared, gliding past the illuminated shop win- 
dows; to see the richly clad, he jeweled crowd 
winding in and out of the brilliant plate-glass 
fronts, always buying and increasing their su- 
perfluity. Then he would turn the corner into 
a side street and find himself among poor chil- 
dren, in the rags and dirt of the slumSj not a 
dozen yards from the glittering shops. 

These dozen yards from superfluity to sheer 
want explained a good deal; it formed, as it were, 
the basis of his system, enabled him to separate 
the sheep from the goats, and taught him the ele- 
ments of sociology. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 23 


But to get this he had to walk, and that made 
him tired. Still he could not sleep. The noise 
outside died away about midnight. The tearing 
motor-cars, the rumbling omnibuses, became 
fewer and fewer. The shouts of cabmen died 
away, and the clanking of footsteps on the stone 
pavement came only now and then. The clock 
of a neighboring tower struck the hours with a 
dull sound, but the voices of the night grew faint 
and finally silent. 

It was a quiet night, with no moon — perfectly 
still; and yet Holger Nielsen seemed to hear 
something in the darkness, something he could 
not recognize, could not explain. 

It was like a child crying — or a cat whining. 
Not a loud caterwauling or mewing, but a low 
whine, pitiable and helpless, that came from far 
away. He tried to go to sleep and forget it, but 
the sound grew louder, more miserable. Now he 
knew that every house in London had at least 
one cat; but these were superior, well-treated 
cats, who have rights of citizenship and a certain 
share of authority. They are under no restraint, 
and are able to enjoy life, both by day and by 
night. This cat, if it was a cat, must be a 
wretched, oppressed cat, mourning in the depths 


24 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


of the house. For it was in the house, it must 
be in the house. 

Holger Nielsen listened. At last he got up, 
put on some clothes, lit a candle and stole out 
into the passage. But where the sound came 
from he could not make out: it arose insidiously 
from the deep silence, creeping along the panel- 
ing of the walls; he could approach it or retire 
from it, but never locate it. 

Now he was in the kitchen. 

He stepped lightly so as not to wake his com- 
panion; then he was aware of a rustling in 
Madam Sivertsen’s cabin, and saw a gleam of 
light under her door. 

“ Madam Sivertsen,” he whispered. 

“Is that you, Mr. Nielsen?” came her voice. 
“ Thank God!” 

“Aren’t you asleep?” asked Holger Nielsen. 

“ No,” was the answer; “ I can’t sleep — there’s 
something moving.” 

There was something moving, Holger Nielsen 
could hear it now. It was a scratching, creep- 
ing, wriggling sound, and yet it might be nothing 
after all. But the cat whined — ^if it was a cat. 

“ There must be a cat somewhere. Madam Si- 
vertsen,” whispered Nielsen. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 25 


That's no cat,” came the answer in a hushed 
tone. 

“What else can it be?” he asked. “Can’t 
you hear, it’s whining. But where is the 
beast? ” 

The old lady emerged from her room in a fan- 
tastic costume, with voluminous nightcap. She 
shook her head so that the ribbons danced. 

“ That's no cat,” she repeated. “ That’s some- 
thing uncanny. I only hope you’ve not made a 
mistake about the house.” 

“ What do you mean? ” asked Nielsen, with a 
little smile. 

“ There’s something stirring, Mr. Nielsen,” 
said Madam Sivertsen, with conviction. 

“ Do you mean spooks? ” said Nielsen, with the 
same smile. 

Madam Sivertsen said nothing. 

“ Surely you don’t believe in spooks. Madam 
Sivertsen? ” 

The old woman shook her head. That's no 
cat. There’s somebody walks in this house, who- 
ever it may be.” 

There was something or somebody that walked 
or crept or crawled — ^that was true enough. But 
what was it? 


26 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“Are you frightened, Madam Sivertsen?” 
asked Nielsen. 

“Not I; IVe a clear conscience, so they’ll let 
me be, whoever they are. But there’s something 
uncanny about it.” 

Nielsen was determined to find out. He went 
all over the house, stamped on the floors, knocked 
on the paneling. The sound went away, but as 
soon as he had left the corridor it came back 
again. The clock struck one. 

“ Now the spooks are going to roost, Madam 
Sivertsen,” he said; “let us do the same.” 

Madam Sivertsen shook her cap-ribbons and 
waddled back into her cabin. 

Holger Nielsen went to bed, fell into an un- 
easy doze and dreamed of a gigantic black cat, 
that sat at the foot of his bed, purring loudly. 

That night he slept very badly. 

Dr. Koldby on the other hand had slept the 
sleep of the just, and laughed both at Nielsen 
and Madam Sivertsen. 

He was delighted with the house, and found 
the studio particularly admirable. 

Nielsen devoted the next day to an inspection, 
in spite of the Doctor’s smiles. He found nothing 
remarkable, and the cat made no sign. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 27 


So he put it out of his mind and went for a 
stroll. 

A couple of days passed. Madam Sivertsen 
did not sleep a wink, and Nielsen heard the cat 
again. 

So they woke the Doctor, and he, too, had to 
admit that there was a sound of something. He 
was in favor of the cat theory, rather than that 
of spooks. But in any case they would make a 
careful examination of the whole thing by day- 
light. 

That was the resolution of the third night, to 
be carried out on the fourth day. 


CHAPTER IV 


“ Look^ Doctor, there’s nothing more than this 
little bit of a cellar, is there? It’s a coal-cellar, 
with a little round iron plate in the hole at the top, 
reaching out under the gravel in front. Can you 
see anything more? ” 

Nielsen and the Doctor were on a voyage of 
discovery. It was bright daylight, and they were 
determined to find the cat. The cat must be in 
the house, it must be in the cellar, but it was not 
there. It was not whining either. Perhaps it 
was taking a rest after the exertions of the night. 

But anyhow it was not in the coal-cellar, and 
that was the only cellar there was. 

“You were dreaming, my friend,” said the 
Doctor, “ unless it was Edgar Allan Poe’s story 
over again — a cat walled up somewhere or other 
with a corpse. What do you say to that? That 
would be something in your line, Mr. Criminal- 
ist. A walled-up corpse and a cat that cries and 
whines and calls for justice. You remember the 
story, don’t you? Then it would not be so 
strange if you and Madam Sivertsen heard 
28 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 29 


spooks at night. For neither of you has seen 
anything, have you? Let’s get out of this coal- 
cellar and come up into daylight.” 

So they came up and went round the house 
again. The wing that contained the dining- 
room was a piece that had been added and had 
its own roof. Like the rest of the house it was 
built of brown brick with a foundation of con- 
crete. To admit air under the floor, grooves 
were cut in this concrete, covered with an iron 
grating. Nielsen went round and tested them 
with a rod, to see if they were level. They were. 

Suddenly he stopped. “ Doctor,” he said, 
“this leads somewhere. There’s a room under 
the floor; it must be below the dining-room, in 
the corner nearest the corridor. You’ll see, the 
cat’s there.” 

“Crawl in then,” said the Doctor; “make 
yourself thin and crawl in; for there’s no way 
down from inside.” 

“ The floor’s covered with linoleum,” said 
Nielsen. 

“ What, are you going to tear it up? ” 

“ I’m going to see what there is. I don’t in- 
tend to have my night’s rest disturbed — besides 
it’s cruel to the animal.” 


30 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ The animal? ” asked the Doctor. 

“ The cat.’’ 

“Oh, the cat! Well, how do you imagine it 
got in? That hole there is scarcely large enough 
for a mouse.” 

“ By a trap-door under the linoleum, for in- 
stance,” said Nielsen, with his hand on the door 
to the corridor. 

The Doctor followed him — rather nettled. It 
was not like Nielsen to be restive; that was usu- 
ally the Doctor’s own part. 

The linoleum was removed — there was a trap- 
door in the floor; it was a cellar, without stairs, 
but as soon as the light from the skylight fell 
through the little square hole in the floor there 
jumped out a long, thin, gray cat; a stiff -legged, 
disheveled cat, full of fear, but with little vi- 
tality; an eel-like, lethargic cat, that limped 
through the corridor out into the garden and was 
gone. 

“ That was the cat,” said Nielsen. 

“ It was,” said the Doctor. “ How the deuce 
did it get down there? ” 

“ Let us get a lamp,” said Nielsen, “ and a 
ladder; we’ll crawl down into this cellar. There 
must be something down there.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 31 


It was quite a small vaulted cellar, with no air 
except what came in by the channels Nielsen had 
found. A wine-cellar, they thought. But it was 
empty. Only in one corner there was a large 
packing-case with the lid nailed on. 

Nielsen wanted to examine the case. 

“ Look out, it’ll explode,” said the Doctor. 
“ I’ll tell you what, a Russian terrorist has been 
living here and he’s left his stock of dynamite be- 
hind in the cellar. It looks as if some lime has 
been spilled here — lime it is.” 

“ Wait a bit,” said Nielsen. “ I’ll go and get 
a jimmy.” 

The Doctor stood with the lamp in his hand, 
whistling, when Nielsen came back with the 
jimmy. “ You’ll see, Criminalist, there’s a 
corpse in that packing-case. A horrible murder 
has been committed. It’s Edgar Allan Poe over 
again.” 

Nielsen broke off the lid of the case. 

“ Bring the lamp here. Doctor,” he said rather 
nervously. 

The Doctor came to him with the lamp — still 
whistling. 

Suddenly he broke off. 

“It looks like it,” he said rather hoarsely. 


32 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ There — ^under the lime — ^there’s a cloth — it’s 
he — it’s a man! Good Lord, it doesn’t do to 
joke about such things. There’s a corpse in 
this case.” 

Neither of them said any more. 

The Doctor set the lamp on the floor, and they 
both set to work. Neilsen dug away the heavy 
white lime with the jimmy and a piece of the 
torn-oif lid. Not a word did they say. 

But after a few minutes’ work there lay on 
the damp stone floor the corpse of a full-grown 
man. 

The face was unrecognizable — rendered so 
designedly by vitriol or some other corroding 
agent. The corpse was clothed only in a night- 
shirt, with an old shawl tied round it. The 
Doctor unwound it and whispered: 

“ Hold the lamp close — so.” 

Nielsen did so. 

“ There’s a little oblong wound in the breast,” 
said the Doctor. “ Murder! This man has been 
murdered and stuffed into the case and put down 
here. The cat slipped in at the same time. Ed- 
gar Allan Poe — Nielsen, I was right.” 

Nielsen said nothing. He knelt, bending over 
the corpse, while the Doctor examined it : a mid- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 38 


dle-aged man, medium height, well built — ex- 
ceedingly well built. No name on the linen, but 
it was good stuff. 

“ It’s lucky Madam Sivertsen is not here,” 
remarked Koldby; “or she’d have fainted.” 

This digression recalled Nielsen to everyday 
life. 

“ Let us go up again,” he said. 

The Doctor was in no hurry. 

“ Let me make a preliminary examination,” 
he said — “ after all, I’m a doctor by profession. 
Murdered by a pointed weapon — ^made unrecog- 
nizable, wrapped in a woman’s shawl. Preserved 
in lime, nailed up in a case — forgotten. If the 
cat hadn’t been there. It’s woman’s work, this, 
and it’s all as recent as — let me see, how long 
can a cat live without food? ” 

“ Let us go up,” said Nielsen. “ And if 
Madam Sivertsen comes home, don’t tell her 
anything about it — yet. It’s a shame to frighten 
the old lady.” 

So they went up to the drawing-room. They 
closed the trap-door and laid the linoleum over 
it again. 


CHAPTER V 


The sun was shining gayly outside — the two 
men indoors were silent. This was a serious 
business. 

Nielsen spoke first. 

“ I suppose I had better go to the police sta- 
tion and report what has happened. There’s 
been a murder committed recently in this house. 
It can scarcely be the Major; Mr. Sydney Arm- 
strong told us he had only owned the house four 
days. It is more likely to be the man who in- 
herited it, whose name Armstrong could not 
remember. What do you say, Doctor?” 

The Doctor was lighting his pipe. 

“ I want to listen to the criminalist. The 
affair has now arrived at the point where the 
doctor has ascertained the death and given his 
hypothesis as to the cause of death. Now comes 
the turn of justice. The usual way is to fetch 
the police. It makes a lot of trouble — but, enfin. 
You talked of the police yourself. All law- 
abiding citizens do so in the hour of need. But 

34 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 35 

I must say it surprises me rather to hear you do 
so. I mean, that you begin by that. But I 
suppose it is purely instinctive.’’ 

“ What do you mean? ” asked Nielsen. 

“ Oh,” said the Doctor, from the midst of a 
cloud of smoke, “ you know I’ve taken quite 
a fancy to your original views of justice — your 
friendliness for the criminal and hatred of the 
police. But it seems to be nothing but theory. 
For now you talk about the police like anyone 
else.” 

Nielsen got up nervously. What do you 
expect me to talk about, then? I can’t do any- 
thing.” 

“ No, I don’t suppose you can,” said the Doctor 
slowly, looking up at Nielsen with a smile. 
“ Although — well, you know, I like people 
who act according to their principles. I admit 
that it is foolish of me; you may call it an old- 
fashioned claim to make, altogether out of date, 
if you like. But then I have a weakness for 
soldiers and big drums and kings with crowns 
on their heads and things of that sort, though 
in many ways I’m a genuine Radical. And 
here you are, a modern criminalist of the most 
advanced type, the criminal’s friend to the tips 


36 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


of your fingers, and the first thing you think of 
is — ^the police! ” 

Holger Nielsen shrugged his shoulders. “ As 
you say yourself, a man is not to be cut off from 
making use of the existing apparatus because he 
condemns current usage, and because he wants 
to have it all altered. Radical ideas, radical 
theories, are one thing: they are the goal to be 
attained. But existing circumstances are an- 
other thing. They must do their work to keep 
the machine going. They must be respected 
until the radical ideas have permeated the whole 
organism of authority. True radicalism con- 
sists in following out ideas to their utmost con- 
sequences, in spreading them among the people, 
in upsetting the old ideas, and then in waiting 
till the new ideas have won their victory in 
the public mind. Not Revolution, but Evolu- 
tion.’' 

Dr. Kolby nodded. “ All right. That’s mod- 
ern, as I say — I know that very well. I dare- 
say I’m wrong; but aU the same I prefer action 
to go hand in hand with theory. People like you 
and your friends, who spend your time abusing 
the law and the police, have no right to call ‘ Po- 
lice.’ You must get on as best you can with your 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 37 


theories of improvement, your principle of irre- 
sponsibility, your determinism, etc. 

“ Here you find in your cellar a dead man in 
a barrel of lime. You don’t know who he is, his 
face is unidentifiable, he has no clothes on which 
could give a clue. He is done with, out of it all. 
Presumably he has been murdered. Allow me 
to remark first of all that this affair does not 
interest me in the least. The fellow is dead; I 
was looking forward to a little dissecting work, 
which I could do as a doctor. As far as I’m 
concerned you may let him stay there, or you may 
give him up to the police. Of all possible fellow- 
lodgers a dead man in the cellar, especially when 
he’s packed in lime, is about the least trouble- 
some I can think of. And the cat we have got 
rid of. 

“ But you, my friend, take a purely scientific 
interest in the event. Would it not then be far 
more amusing to see what you can make of it? 
Treat it as a sort of indoor sport. As far as I 
know, there is not the slightest necessity for a 
citizen to report occurrences of this sort. The 
man is dead.” 

“ I should like to know about that,” interrupted 
Nielsen. 


38 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ Whether he’s dead? — you may take my word 
for that.” 

“ No, hut whether people in England are 
obliged to report the finding of a corpse. In 
Denmark they are not. I should like to obey 
the law of the land.” 

The Doctor laughed dryly. ‘‘ The law-abid- 
ing anarchist again! Damn it, man . . . 

well, it’s the same old question. Do what you like. 
I will only warn you that we shall have a deuce 
of a lot of bother. We shall even risk arrest, 
conviction, and all the rest of it. This fellow’s 
fresh.” 

“Would that be a reason for your omitting 
to report this? ” asked Nielsen. 

“ To tell you the truth, it would. I have never 
professed to be a reformer of society. I’m very 
comfortable as I am; I know there are many who 
are quite the reverse, but it consoles me to think 
that the same thing might happen just as easily 
to myself. Therefore, frankly and honestly, for 
the sake of society I shall not move the smallest 
joint of my little finger. For my own sake it 
is quite possible that I might move the whole of 
it. If you ask me, I answer: Pack this person 
up again, put the case in the corner where you 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 39 


found it, nail down the linoleum above, and let 
us go on as before. There’s sure to be someone 
who will find him again, and then he’ll be a good 
bit older. It won’t concern us; we’re leaving 
anyhow on the 1st of August.” 

The Doctor was leaning back in his chair and 
smoking. His fez hung crooked, but he was quite 
content with everything. Nielsen could see that. 

“We run the risk of being suspected when the 
corpse is discovered,” said Nielsen. “ We have 
lived here, w^e have found it, we said nothing. 
And I’m certain it will be discovered. We may 
just as well accept the unpleasantness at once, 
while we have clear consciences. For it is quite 
absurd to let one’s self in for the least taint of 
complicity.” 

The Doctor looked up with his head on one 
side. “ By Jove, Nielsen, how splendid it must 
be to have such modern ideas. I can still re- 
member your last lecture at the Workman’s Club 
in Copenhagen ; it was about ‘ Guilt and Com- 
plicity.’ Courageous, honest, absorbing it was; 
all the conservative papers sneered at you for it. 
You showed how every human action ought to 
be treated individually — crime, too. Oh, how 
well I remember it. The two little radical Miss 


40 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Smiths — you know them — ^wept with emotion. 
And now, if this corpse is the corpse of a scoun- 
drel, who has bullied his wife, let us say, or ruined 
the lives of a couple of dozen of his fellow- 
creatures? Supposing he has got his deserts, as 
you would say at the Workman’s Club? What 
then? Are you going to let loose what you so 
tastefully described as the curs of justice on 
the track of the one who did the deed? . . 

Nielsen was walking impatiently up and down 
the room. “You may well say that,” he sneered 
ill-humoredly. 

“ And you may do it, for all I care,” said the 
Doctor dryly; “as I have already eloquently 
explained to you. But you interest me as an 
individual. I find your theories excellent for 
their purpose. Theories always are. Your 
practice is just that of the Ministry of Justice, 
where you will never arrive, on account of your 
theories. But the whole thing halts, my dear 
sir; it’s lame. Do you understand that?” 

“We could take a middle course,” said 
Nielsen. 

“Bless your heart, you’re a beauty! — ^take 
your middle course. That’s the way we all trot 
along, because we are whipped into it. It’s the 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 41 


middle course that you’re always abusing, and 
yet you are all for taking it when the time comes. 
Bless your heart. But of course it’s only in 
theory that your clear point of view holds good.” 

“Doctor, you’re stupid at times,” said Niel- 
sen — he was angry now. 

“ Always, I believe — generally, anyhow. I 
frankly admit that. But it’s your turn to speak. 
Explain yourself — but keep to the case in point. 
I hate generalities, and on a limited field I can 
sometimes follow, in spite of my inborn stu- 
pidity. Go on; I am all ears.” 

Nielsen stood still, leaning against the table, 
with a thumb in the arm-hole of his waistcoat. 
That was his favorite posture when he held 
forth. 

The Doctor smoked on with his eyes shut; he 
heard better like that. 

“ Let me assume,” Nielsen began, “ that we 
do nothing at all. I take it for granted that we 
have a legal right to leave things as they are; 
and, as I do not recognize the duality of legal 
and moral right, the question is solved for me 
if I find that my legal right covers the whole. 
It does so. This affair does not concern you or 
me. We have no idea who the murdered man 


42 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


is, or even whether he has been murdered, by 
whom, how ” 

“Excuse me,” said the Doctor; “he was 
stabbed in the breast with a dagger.” 

“ Very well; then we know how, but we don’t 
know why. We do not belong to this nation, we 
do not belong to this society, I say — we are free 
men. I might go on, but it would only bore you. 
In short, we have no obligation at all to move in 
the matter — assuming, of course, that ” 

“ That we are not obliged to by the law of the 
land,” said the Doctor, with a chuckle. “You 
did not manage that quite so well as your address 
at the Workman’s Club.” 

Nielsen flung himself into a chair. “You’re 
impossible to-day. Doctor. I’ll content myself 
with telling you that I am convinced we need not 
report this, that I’m not going to worry myself 
to And out whether we ought to do so — but that 
I will clear up the fact itself. You have touched 
something in me which vibrates when it is touched. 
You have spoken of the author of the deed. As 
the matter now stands, I hold his fate in my 
hands.” 

“Or hers,” interrupted the Doctor; “I said, 
you know, that it looked like woman’s work.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 43 


“ Let us say hers then. If she had the right 
to do it, she shall keep that right; but to let her 
keep that right, we must continue to hold the 
matter in our own hands.” 

The Doctor interrupted again. “ In yours, 
you mean — I’m hanged if I’ll have anything to 
do with it. But let me remind you of what 
you so prudently remarked just now — that this 
may get you into the devil’s own mess. But 
perhaps you would regard yourself as a martyr 
of science.” 

Nielsen was silent for a moment; then he went 
on: “ Doctor, this is a case where I can test my 
theories. I can put myself in the place of the 
avenging justice of Society; I can track out the 
author of this deed; I can judge his case; I can 
behave towards him exactly as I should wish 
Society to behave — I’m going to do that.” 

The Doctor nodded. “ You’re a good fellow, 
Nielsen — you look very fine when you talk like 
that, and perhaps you are right. We’ll talk of 
that another time. But there’s one thing you 
forget — you have not the same apparatus at your 
service as Society has.” 

“ I forget nothing,” said Nielsen — he took the 
upper hand now. ‘‘ My chief quarrel with So- 


44 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


ciety is concerned with its abuse of authority in 
the service of justice. I have no authority, 
therefore I cannot abuse it. Doctor Koldby, 
there’s something in this. I am in the place of 
avenging Society, I trace out the crime that has 
been committed here, I come face to face with its 
author, I clear up the question of the actors and 
the deed, and then I give judgment. That’s all.” 

“ I hope you’ll enjoy it,” concluded the Doctor, 
but there was a gleam in the little gray eyes. He 
liked this. 

“ Will you join? ” asked Nielsen. 

“ Oh, all right,” muttered the Doctor. “ Any- 
how, I’m a sort of accomplice already. Let me 
remain as I am. I’ll make an examination for 
you, as well as it can be done without using 
the knife. It won’t be complete, but I’ve an 
idea that the whole conduct of the case, with the 
means at your disposal, will suffer from still 
more serious deficiencies. So never mind. You 
shall have your post-mortem. Let us take the 
opportunity while Madam Sivertsen is out. She 
must not be told anything of this. For we are 
well aware that there may be trouble over it.” 

So they proceeded to the examination of the 
body. 


CHAPTER VI 


“ Look here, Nielsen,” said the Doctor later 
in the afternoon. “ Plere is the result of my in- 
quest, as good as any coroner could have done 
it. It’s a queer thing, I’ve been painting now 
for something like thirty years and scarcely ever 
said how d’ye do to my old profession, and yet 
it turns out that I’m quite a competent medico 
all the time — even to the dog-Latin, which I’ve 
turned into Danish for your benefit.” 

Nielsen took the paper and read: 

“ During the examination the corpse lay 
stretched out on the floor of the cellar where 
it was found. It should be remarked that it 
had originally been placed in a packing-case 
face downwards; during the examination it was 
lying on its back. The body was in an extended 
posture, with the arms lying by the sides. Rigor 
and several livid spots were present, but putre- 
faction had not yet set in to a visible extent. 

“ The head had evidently been treated after 

45 


46 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


death with a strong corrosive liquid, of which 
traces were found on the linen and on the shawl 
which was wound around the body. All the soft 
parts of the face were destroyed by this liquid. 
The hair of the head was partly destroyed in 
strips on the crown and about the ears, but tufts 
of brownish hair remained. The hair on the neck 
was thick ; there was much baldness on the crown. 
The throat bore no marks of strangulation or 
outward violence. 

“ In the breast, just over the left nipple, was 
a punctured wound, about a quarter of an inch 
in length, with ragged edges, evidently produced 
by a dagger. As far as could be ascertained, it 
penetrated to the heart; it appeared to be deep, 
but the hemorrhage was slight. It appears, how- 
ever, from the suffusion of blood under the skin 
that the hemorrhage had not ceased when the 
corpse was placed in the position mentioned 
above, and the linen about the wound was also 
soaked with blood. 

“No other traces of violence were to be seen. 
Death seems to have been rapid, almost instan- 
taneous, and must be attributed to the incised 
wound in the region of the heart. As to the 
length of time that has elapsed since death took 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 47 

place, this cannot be ascertained from the ex- 
amination, but it may be presumed that it took 
place ten or fourteen days before.” 

** There — no professor could have made more 
out of it,” said the Doctor, with self-esteem. “If 
anyone took it into his head to write more, it 
would be mere priggishness. Possibly the form 
is not quite correct, but it tells you all there is 
to be told. And no London doctor could have 
made more out of it — I’m sure of that. We 
have exhausted the corpse. Now we can put it 
back in the case as we found it, and nail it down.” 

“ Let us do so,” said Nielsen shortly. 

He had made up his mind, and the Doctor 
said nothing. 

They put everything as it was before, even the 
linoleum, which they replaced over the trap-door. 
They worked calmly with a good conscience; 
they knew what they had decided, and their de- 
cision was not to be shaken. 

The Doctor’s way was that when a thing had 
been discussed it was done with. Nielsen knew 
this, and the matter had been discussed and was 
now done with. 

When they sat once more in the drawing-room, 
after finishing their work, and the Doctor had 


48 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


got a light to his pipe, he remarked gayly to Niel- 
sen: “Now, avenger of Society, it’s your turn 
to begin. What was your idea of going to 
work? ” 

Nielsen hesitated a little before answering: 
“ I must confess that my ignorance of the cus- 
toms of the country makes my work rather 
harder. I must begin with a hypothesis. I 
agree with you that nothing more is to be found 
out from the corpse itself. All that we can 
know is set forth in your paper. We have now 
a choice of two ways. We can try to establish 
the identity of the murdered man, or we can 
direct our inquiries to establishing that of the 
murderer. The usual way would be to begin 
with the dead man. The face is unrecognizable, 
the linen tells us very little — the shawl might 
tell us something, not a great deal, but some- 
thing. In our most exceptional position we are 
not able to make use of these clues ; we must not 
disturb the status quo; we must appear as though 
we had not seen anything. We are there within 
our rights. 

“ Therefore I propose that instead of begin- 
ning by establishing the identity of the murdered 
man, we start with that of the murderer. By 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 49 


this means we shall have him, when we have 
established the identity. That’s practical, isn’t 
it?” 

“ Certainly,” was all the Doctor said. 

“ The Major Johnson mentioned by Mr. Syd- 
ney Armstrong is one name; it might serve as 
a point of departure, and certainly would do so 
for the police.” 

The Doctor interrupted him with a dry 
laugh. 

“ No, my dear fellow, the police would begin 
with you and me. And in fact we have this ad- 
vantage over the police, that we know at least 
that we didn’t do it. That saves us a lot of 
trouble and justifies our conduct. But Major 
Johnson? ” 

“Major Johnson,” said Nielsen, “brings us 
to Mr. Sydney Armstrong. That gentleman is 
such an intolerable chatterbox that we must do 
all we can to avoid him. Besides, he says himself 
that he doesn’t know who the heir was.” 

“ That seems to me suspicious,” put in the 
Doctor. 

Nielsen smiled. “ Now you’re on the regular 
police track — suspect everybody, eh? What we 
two have to do is precisely not to suspect any- 


50 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


body, but to collect all the impersonal facts we 
can get hold of, until they form a chain which 
shall lead to a point of departure.” 

The Doctor nodded. “We ought to have 
secured the cat.” 

“ But it ran off,” Nielsen smiled. 

There was a ring at the bell. 

Madam Sivertsen returned, laden with par- 
cels. She had been out laying in provisions for 
a whole voyage, she said. She was a practical 
person and did not neglect the opportunity of 
saving something by making large purchases at 
a time. 

“Did you find the cat? ” she asked, when she 
had got rid of her parcels. 

The Doctor shook his head. 

“ That’s a pity,” said Madam Sivertsen. 

And she went into the kitchen. 

Nielsen and the Doctor began again where 
they had left off. 

“Doctor! Mr. Nielsen!” they heard her call 
from the kitchen. 

The two men jumped up — ^had they forgotten 
something? 

In the kitchen they found their housekeeper 
rather out of breath, pointing to a corner by the 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 51 


range. There lay the cat — long, thin, lethargic, 
but alive. 

The Doctor looked at Nielsen, and Nielsen 
looked at the Doctor. The cat was peacefully 
digesting. It had helped itself. 

But around its neck it had a little silver chain 
with a name-plate. Nielsen undid the fasten- 
ing, and on the plate were engraved two names in 
written characters, like a firm lady’s hand; Amy^s 
Puss, 

“ That’s the cat,” said Nielsen. “ Now we 
have two documents.” 

The housekeeper was seriously annoyed with 
the thief and wanted to drive it out, but the men 
took its part. “ The cat has been longer in the 
house than we have,” said the Doctor. “We 
must respect Amy’s Puss. I would give a good 
many nights’ rest to know who Amy is.” 

“ It must be a lady that has belonged to the 
cat,” said Madam Sivertsen. 

“ It must,” said the Doctor. “ Look after 
the beast; it has been in an awkward place, 
and I expect Amy would be glad to see her cat 
again.” 

Madam Sivertsen grumbled at Amy’s cat 
being received into the family; she did not under- 


52 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


stand what the two gentlemen wanted with the 
wretched beast. 

Puss, on the other hand, did not seem to mind 
this in the least ; she purred, lapped her milk, and 
made herself thoroughly at home. And at 
home, in fact, she was. 


CHAPTER VII 


“ What do you say to this, Mr. Justice? ” said 
Dr. Koldby later in the afternoon of the same 
memorable day in May, as he walked into the 
drawing-room waving a little pink note. 

Nielsen looked up. ‘‘ What have you got 
there? ” 

“ A billet doux, my son, a charming little card 
in a very decided lady’s hand, undated — of 
course — ladies always neglect those little points 
of importance ; but here it is, very brief and con- 
cise: ‘ If it is all over between us, then so be it, 
but you will come to regret it.’ — You can exam- 
ine the original text for yourself. The signature 
is Amy — yes, Amy! And it begins Dear James/^ 

Nielsen snatched the note — ^yes, it was Amy — 
a threatening letter signed Amy. 

“ It’s a pity Puss can’t read,” said the Doctor; 
“otherwise we could learn some more. Now we 
have four documents. No. 1, the corpse; No. 2, 
the cat; No. 3, its collar; No. 4, the note. What 
if it is Amy that has taken revenge ? ” 

53 


54 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Nielsen nodded thoughtfully. “ Armstrong 
told me that Major Johnson’s fiancee broke off 
the engagement with him, or rather that he was 
glad to be rid of her. So it’s possible that Amy 

was the fiancee and ” 

“ Major Johnson the corpse. No, that’s not 
very likely, my dear fellow. Major Johnson is 
a notability, not the kind of person to disappear 
all of a sudden and leave no trace. Your agent, 
the indispensable Armstrong, must know some- 
thing about it. It’s the mystery, my son, that 
makes the thing difficult. Let’s hope it won’t 
all end in smoke. You think, then, that Miss 
Amy has murdered her lover from spite, and that 
she forgot her cat in the cellar, eh? Well, of 
course that is possible, but it’s in the highest de- 
gree improbable that the lady should bring her 
cat to the house, isn’t it? And if it is John- 
son’s cat, why on earth should it call itself Amy’s 
cat? It’s a great pity that beast can’t talk. But 
are you sure to begin with that this note refers 
to the Johnson affair? ” 

“ In any case it’s a clue,” said Nielsen. 

“ My dear sir,” interrupted the Doctor, “ now 
Vm beginning to get interested. You know, you 
were going to introduce a new and improved 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 55 


method of criminal justice, and now you begin 
in the old way to suspect everybody whose name 
is Amy. It’s lucky you have no authority. 
Otherwise the lady would certainly be in jail 
by now. Shan’t we begin by seeing how much it 
is that we know about Amy? ” 

“ It isn’t much,” admitted Nielsen; “but you 
are right. We know that Amy threw over James. 
We know that the cat is Amy’s. We have heard 
that Major Johnson had trouble with his fiancee. 
But whether Amy the fiancee and Amy of the cat 
are one and the same, we cannot guess.” 

“We can’t, can we?” said the Doctor with a 
smile. “ Shall we go through the case rationally, 
step by step. Let it be our problem to find 
out what was the name of Major Johnson’s 
fiancee, and where she and Major Johnson are 
now.” 

“ Where did you find this note? ” 

“ In the hall ; it had got behind the wainscot- 
ing. I may tell you, young man, that I’m going 
round ferreting things out, though that’s really 
your business. Now will you be good enough to 
go and see Mr. Armstrong and pump him about 
Major Johnson’s love affair.” 

There was a ring. Madam Sivertsen went to 


56 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

open the door and announced a young lady who 
wished to speak to the gentleman who had taken 
the house. 

Nielsen rose hastily. 

“ Now you’ll see, Nielsen,” said the Doctor. 
“ This is our Amy. Isn’t there an old proverb 
that says the guilty man — or the guilty woman, 
too, for the matter of that — is drawn by an inex- 
plicable power towards the scene of his crime? 
You take charge of her; I’ll retire to the passage 
and listen. It is certainly best for you to receive 
her. You look so pleasant.” 

Nielsen was rather nervous. 

The lady entered. She was young and pretty, 
with a decidedly fashionable look, dressed in a 
beautifully fitting tailor-made costume. 

Nielsen bowed. 

“My name is Miss Derry,” said the lady — 
“ Amelia Derry. Pray excuse my troubling you, 
but this house belonged to a friend of my family, 
who has left — rather suddenly. There may be 
some letters addressed to him here. You under- 
stand, he is a very intimate friend of ours — of 
my parents. Would you mind readdressing any 
letters to the address I will give you? ” 

Nielsen bowed. “ I’ll do so with pleasure. Miss 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 57 

Derry. May I ask the name of the gentleman 
who has been living here? ’’ 

“Major Johnson — Major James Johnson of 
the 27th Lancers. Well, he has not exactly been 
living here; he was to have lived here — but it 
came to nothing. He has gone abroad — ^but he 
has given a good many people this address, and 
it is always annoying if letters come into the 
wrong people’s hands.” 

“ I assure you I shall not open your fiance’s 
letters,” said Nielsen purposely. 

The lady blushed. “ My fiance — ^how do you 
know? ” 

Nielsen smiled. “ I put two and two together. 
Miss Derry. On the Continent, you know, we 
call a dear friend a fiance; but perhaps I made a 
mistake — if so, I beg your pardon.” 

The lady looked rather sharply at him. 

“ Major Johnson is not my fiance — he is a re- 
lation. He has gone abroad, and my father has 
promised him to send on his letters. Mr. Sydney 
Armstrong forgot to tell you that, didn’t he?” 

“ Yes,” said Nielsen. “ He forgot that 
Though Mr. Armstrong is generally very elo- 
quent.” 

Miss Derry again looked sharply at Nielsen. 


58 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


She had a way of looking sharply at the person 
she was talking to. 

The door creaked and with a little meow the 
cat glided into the room. 

It was the Doctor, working behind the scenes. 

The cat stole across the room and rubbed itself 
insinuatingly against the lady’s dress. 

Nielson held his breath. 

“ Is that your cat? ” asked the lady. 

“No,” said Nielsen; “it’s Amy’s cat.” 

“Amy’s cat?” she asked. 

Nielsen thought her voice trembled — he 
thought, too, that her hand was passed over the 
cat’s neck, as if feeling for something. 

Nielsen looked at her fixedly. “ Yes,” he said, 
“ this cat was in the house when we took posses- 
sion a few days ago. It had a collar, which I 
have put away; it was a silver one. On the name- 
plate was engraved ‘Amy’s Puss’. We thought 
the people who lived here before us had forgot- 
ten their cat.” 

Nielsen spoke quite slowly; he was well pleased 
that the lady was sitting in full daylight, while 
he was more in shadow. He observed her very 
narrowly. Meanwhile the cat had jumped on to 
the lady’s lap. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 59 


“ If only the cat had been a dog,” thought 
Nielsen; “these mouse-eaters are so fond of 
making friends with everybody.” 

“ It’s a nice cat,” said the lady in a kindly tone; 
“ a pretty cat, but it is not Major Johnson’s. 
As I told you, the Major did not live here. He 
had bought the house of a friend, Mr. Throg- 
morton, an engineer, and his sister, people he had 
met in India. The thing was settled very 
quickly.” 

“And Mr. Throgmorton lived here?” 

“ I don’t think so,” said the lady. “ I don’t 
think anyone has lived in the house for a long 
time. Major Johnson furnished it. Well — ^now 
I have done what I came about. Then you will 
promise to send on Major Johnson’s letters to 
me?” 

“ If you will be so kind as to give me your ad- 
dress — or perhaps your father’s ” 

She rose hastily. “ No — ^no, here is the ad- 
dress, Miss A. Derry, 117 Clarendon Road, 
Bayswater.” 

“And the cat?” asked Nielsen. 

“ It can stay here,” said the lady hurriedly. 

The cat stroked itself against her. 

The door opened wider and the Doctor 


60 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


came in. She turned quickly, rather nervously, 
Nielsen thought. 

“I beg your pardon,” said the Doctor, with 
great politeness; “I am this gentleman’s friend 
— we live here together. I was working in the 
next room and could not help hearing what you 
were talking about. It did not seem to be 
secrets, anyhow. You spoke of letters to Major 
Johnson. Here is a letter addressed to Major 
Johnson — it is opened, certainly — but not by me. 
There is no envelope.” 

The lady turned scarlet; she evidently knew 
the letter and snatched at it nervously. 

The Doctor looked very serious. “ I assure 
you on my honor. Miss De — Derry; I did not 
open that letter.” 

She had recovered herself — it was clear that 
she saw she had given herself away. She now 
took the letter and read it, and then gave it back 
to the Doctor. “ This letter has nothing to do 
with Major Johnson — and therefore does not 
concern me. It must have been dropped by 
someone else. And now my business here is fin- 
ished; you must excuse me, gentlemen. I may 
expect, then, that you will readdress Major 
Johnson’s letters, and I hope you will excuse 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 61 


the trouble. Out of the way, Puss, or I shall 
, tread on you. It looks as if this cat wanted to 
follow me.’’ 

j Miss Derry bowed to the gentlemen with a 
smile and went — the cat followed her, but she 
( shut the door in its face. 

Nielsen went with her through the garden — 
( but she did not speak or turn round. She was 
evidently in a hurry. 

When she was gone the two friends held a 
council of war. 

Her name was Amelia — was she Amy? She 
appeared as Major Johnson’s friend — was she 
his fiancee? She disavowed the cat, she dis- 
avowed the letter. Was it she? Was she a mur- 
I deress? Was the corpse in the cellar Major 
I Johnson? etc., etc. 

All these points were discussed very closely. 

“ Would you have her arrested if you had 
authority to do so?” asked the Doctor. “ She 
looks suspicious enough in all conscience. And 
she lies, too. The note was from her. That’s 
what she came for. But then she can’t have mur- 
I dered the addressee. The cat’s hers, too, but then 
it can’t belong to the house. Would you have 
arrested her, Mr. Justice?” 


62 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ No,” said Nielsen. 

There was a postman’s knock at the door and 
a postcard fell into the letter-box. 

Nielsen went and got it. 

It was from Mr. Armstrong and contained the 
following words: “ I forgot to ask that all let- 
ters for Major Johnson might be readdressed 
to me — and to no one else. I should be glad to 
know whether any application about the Major’s 
letters has been made from any other quarter. 
I you in any case not to comply with any 
other request than mine. This is important. I 
shall have the pleasure of calling on you to-mor- 
row at 11:30.” 

“Would you have her arrested now?” asked 
the Doctor, screwing up his eyes. 

“ No,” said Nielsen. “ But I am convinced 
that Miss Derry has every reason to be thankful 
that she found us here, instead of a couple of 
emissaries from Scotland Yard.” 

The Doctor nodded. 

“The more I think over this affair, Nielsen, 
the more certain I feel that we have taken the 
right course. The police are a useful institution 
enough when it’s a question of protecting and 
preserving the living, but when the catastrophe 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 63 


has already happened, as in this case, then I’m 
inclined to think that it is best for all parties if 
a couple of intelligent amateurs, with their hearts 
in the right places and a certain amount of psy- 
chological insight, set to work to straighten out 
the preliminary material for the authorities.” 

Nielsen walked up and down the room. “ Per- 
haps,” said he. “As far as psychological sense 
goes, I’m not sure that we two have much to boast 
of. Our documents may be good enough. Es- 
pecially the corpse downstairs, which is the most 
genuine of them all; but what about the lady?” 

“ She was pretty, ladylike — sure of herself, 
too, she was,” replied the Doctor. “ But don’t 
you think, Nielsen, she didn’t look as if she could 
have murdered Major Johnson and put him away 
in lime ? ” 

“Not a bit,” agreed Nielsen. 

The Doctor clapped him on the shoulder heart- 
ily. “ My^ friend, you’re caught again on the 
usual false scent. Because this girl was pretty, 
well-dressed and ladylike, you don’t suspect her, 
although she evidently lied like a trooper. If it 
had been some knock-kneed waiter, with a squint 
and other hereditary signs of degeneration, you’d 
have had your claws on him quick enough.” 


64 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Nielsen nodded. It annoyed him, but the Doc- 
tor was right. 

“ We won’t think any more about it to-day,” 
said the Doctor; “ we’ll go to the theater and see 
how badly they can do Shakespeare in England, 
and then we’ll hear to-morrow what Mr. Arm- 
strong has to say.” 

To this Nielsen had nothing to object, and 
for the remainder of the day Amy and her cat 
were banished from their conversation. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Mr. Sydney Armstrong came in for a sharp 
cross-examination when he called next day at the 
appointed time at 48 Cranbourne Grove. Mr. 
Armstrong was exceedingly loquacious, and a 
brief summary which Nielsen made after he had 
gone will be much clearer than all Mr, Arm- 
strong’s discursive verbosity. 

Major Johnson was a man nearing forty, of 
medium height, well built, slightly bald ; in short, 
he might be the man in the packing-case. He had 
not gone to Burma ; that was a story that Arm- 
strong had given as a pretext for getting the 
house let. The truth was that Major Johnson 
had regretted his bargain, when he gave up his 
idea of marrying Miss Amy Derry. He gave 
up this idea because he was in love with Mrs. 
Weston, Mr. Throgmorton’s sister, who, to- 
gether with her husband and brother, had been 
living in the house, and of whom Major John- 
son had bought it, 

Throgmorton was an Indian friend of the 
Major’s; Mr. Armstrong did not know him; he 

65 


66 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


was a painter; Weston was an invalid — ^mad, 
probably; formerly in the Army. Mrs. Weston 
was very handsome. That was all Mr. Arm- 
strong knew about the family. They had owned 
the house for a number of years, having inherited 
it from their mother. If Mr. Armstrong had not 
told Nielsen all this before, it was because Mr. 
Throgmorton had asked him not to. Mr. Throg- 
morton had arranged it all. Mr. Armstrong had 
only once met Major Johnson; but he believed 
the Major had left the Army and, in fact, had 
run away with Mrs. Weston. The postcard of 
the day before was sent at Throgmorton’s re- 
quest. 

With regard to this gentleman, Mr. Arm- 
strong could say that his address was poste res- 
tante^ Hjorring, a town in Denmark, of which 
Mr. Armstrong had never heard. 

All this information was extracted by Nielsen, 
who played his part of examining barrister un- 
commonly well. Mr. Armstrong tried to wrig- 
gle out, but was held to the point by means of 
Miss Derry. Nielsen insisted that the whole af- 
fair was a scandal which might, if the Derry fam- 
ily chose, place Mr. Armstrong in anything but 
a favorable light. For it was evident that there 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 67 


was a conspiracy on the part of Throgmorton 
and his sister. Mr. Derry, the father, was a man 
of some importance, and it was a dangerous thing 
to be in collusion with fugitives, as the Cran- 
bourne Grove family plainly were. Mr. Arm- 
strong had to admit that his fees had been con- 
siderable, that the part he had played was a 
shady one, and that the whole affair was calcu- 
lated to give rise to a notoriety that would be un- 
pleasant for a man who wished to appear as a 
respectable house agent. 

Mr. Armstrong was not a very talented per- 
son; he was young and eager to make money. 
He had availed himself of lies, and was put to 
shame when they were exposed. Nielsen prom- 
ised to keep silence; the whole affair was none 
of his business ; but Mr. Armstrong had to prom- 
ise to keep all letters addressed to the Major un- 
til orders arrived from the latter himself. Miss 
Derry, of course, had just as little claim to the 
letters as Mr. Throgmorton. 

Thus far the friends of justice arrived that 
day. 

“ Doctor,” said Nielsen, ‘‘ I’m beginning to 
think that we should do best to apply to the 
police.” 


68 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ Ah,” said the Doctor, “ you soon get tired.” 

“ It seems to me,” Nielsen went on, “ that we 
ought to let justice step in in its official form. 
I have no doubt that the murdered man is Major 
Johnson. I am convinced that this Throgmor- 
ton and his sister, perhaps the brother-in-law as 
well, have murdered the Major and are now en- 
joying the fruits of the crime abroad.” 

The Doctor smiled. 

“You’re a lawyer, Nielsen — that’s the whole 
trouble. You are simply unable to avoid look- 
ing at things from an official point of view. 
Yesterday you believed Miss Derry was guilty 
— though you were inconsistent for a minute or 
two, because she was good-looking — nevertheless 
your official consciousness believed it was she. 
To-day you have listened so long to that gassy 
person Armstrong that you believe Throgmorton 
is guilty, and now, out of consideration for Miss 
Derry — for you may as well admit that it is on 
her account — you want to hand the matter over 
to the police. What will be the result? You 
bring a heap of trouble on the head of Arm- 
strong — which of course he deserves, but which 
according to agreement you ought to spare him, 
since the fellow has certainly acted in good faith. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 69 


otherwise you would not have got all this out of 
him. As for Miss Derry, you simply ruin her. 
Think what it means for a girl to get into the 
clutches of the halfpenny press and have all her 
private history advertised in big letters at every 
street-corner. You can’t keep the story private, 
you know, when once it’s in the hands of justice. 

“ And the murderers, supposing it is the 
Throgmorton party? Well, they will be the 
only ones who will get any good out of it. The 
news will be telegraphed all over Europe, and 
if they haven’t clean hands, you may be sure 
they’ll give Hjorring a wide berth. 

“ Goodness knows, though, what they want at 
Hjorring! But in the choice of that blessed 
spot we may see the finger of fate. London and 
India are beyond our powers, but I should almost 
think that you and I could make something out 
of Hjorring. Perhaps you will now have the 
goodness to admit, my dear Nielsen, that now we 
have all the more reason to keep this to our- 
selves ! ” 

Nielsen said nothing. 

“ Besides, we are by no means sure that it is 
the Throgmorton party that murdered Johnson 
— that is, if the murdered man is J ohnson. Sup- 


70 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


pose now that it was Miss Derry or one of her 
family that has taken revenge on the Major — 
don’t forget Amy’s cat and the threatening let- 
ter; in that case we should give the unfortunate 
Throgmortons a lot of unpleasantness, quite con- 
trary to your plans of judicial reform. 

“ Suppose now, finally, that it is Johnson that 
has murdered Mrs. Weston’s husband, which is 
also a reasonable supposition. . . .” 

“ Or that it is Mrs. Weston’s husband that has 
murdered Johnson ” 

“No, my dear sir, we know too little at present. 
Yon have got me into this now, and you have to 
put it through — you understand, you must clear 
it up properly. As an examining barrister 
you’re invaluable. What you have to do this 
evening is to go and see Miss Derry at Clarendon 
Road and find out whether she was telling lies 
yesterday.” 

Again the Doctor’s word carried the day, and 
Nielsen set out for the address Miss Derry had 
given. 


CHAPTER IX 


Miss Derry did not live at 117 Clarendon 
Road, Bayswater. It was a dressmaker that 
lived there, and she was evidently a good deal 
flustered when Nielsen rang the bell and inquired 
for Miss Derry. It is always rather difficult 
for a woman to play the friend in need when she 
is taken by surprise. Madame Sorel — that was 
the dressmaker’s name — certainly lacked neither 
the will nor the ability to lie, but she did not know 
exactly what her client wanted of her in this 
situation, and so she was only flustered. 

Nielsen took it like the amateur detective he 
was. 

He left his card and said he was ready to call 
again on receipt of a telegram or letter, when- 
ever Miss Derry might wish. 

With that he went away. 

But Miss Derry had no such wish. She sent 
him a card, in which she politely informed him 
that she had received a communication from 
Major Johnson, and would now ask Mr. Nielsen 

71 


72 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

and his friend to treat her visit to Cranbourne 
Grove as if it had not taken place. 

“ That’s a lie,” said Nielsen. 

The Doctor laughed. 

“ Now the scale is turned in favor of the 
Throgmortons.” 

“No,” said Nielsen. “Mr. Derry is a well- 
known and respected man. If the daughter won’t 
come near us, I shall go and see the father.” 

“ I have nothing to say against that,” said 
the Doctor thoughtfully. “ But in that case I 
should take the cat and its collar with me. We 
should then find out at any rate whether Amy’s 
cat is Amy’s cat. I mean, this Amy’s, for of 
course there’s nothing to prevent the other lady 
implicated in the tragedy being also an Amy. 
That would naturally make things rather more 
complicated — but only at first. Then if Mr. 
Derry should ask you for further details, you 
are in the happy position of not being able to 
give them. Thus you will save the young lady 
a lot of unpleasantness.” 

Nielsen took a cab and put Amy’s Puss in a 
basket. The cat whined a little, but resigned 
itself to the inevitable. 

Mr. Derry’s address was easily found; he was 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 73 

a business man and lived on the north side of 
the Park. 

It was three o’clock when Nielsen’s cab drew 
up before a large and handsome house in West- 
bourne Terrace. 

Nielsen asked for Miss Derry, 

Miss Derry was not at home. 

Then he asked for Mrs. Derry. 

She was at home. 

Nielsen handed her the cat with a bow. 

“ Why, it’s Amy’s cat,” she exclaimed in as- 
tonishment. 

This did not surprise Nielsen. 

“Where in the world have you found Amy’s 
cat?” inquired the dignified, elderly lady, after 
having exchanged affectionate greetings with 
the animal. 

“ At 48 Cranhourne Grove, where I am liv- 
ing,” said Nielsen straight out. 

The lady struck her hands together in aston- 
ishment. Had Pussy really run a couple of 
miles away through Kensington Gardens and 
found her way into a house in South Kensington? 

Nielsen, too, thought it was strange. 

“ But how in the world did you, a complete 
stranger, find out that it was Amy’s cat? ” 


74 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Nielsen hesitated. 

The good lady obviously knew nothing at all 
about No. 48 Cranbourne Grove. But if Amy 
and the Major had really been engaged, if the 
wedding had been fixed — then she must at least 
know the Major’s name. 

Nielsen thought therefore that he might safely 
mention it. 

“ Well,” he said, “ of course, it is rather ex- 
traordinary, but the house I am living in belongs 
to Major James Johnson.” 

Mrs. Derry turned pale. 

But she said nothing. 

“Major James Johnson,” she repeated after 
a pause. “ You see, I do not know you, 
Mr. ” 

“ Nielsen,” he said. 

“Mr. Nielsen,” pursued the old lady; “ I can 
assure you that I know Major Johnson just as 
little as I do you. We scarcely ever meet now, 
and you will understand that I cannot speak of 
family secrets with a stranger. Nor can I ask 
you to speak to Mr. Derry about this. In fact, 
I must ask you to go — do you hear? I ask you 
to go.” 

The old lady was very uneasy, as though she 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 75 


were afraid that someone might come. This 
someone must obviously be Mr. Derry. 

Nielsen rose and bowed. 

She added: “I beg to assure you that since 
Major Johnson had to leave the Army last au- 
tumn, neither I nor Mr. Derry have known him, 
and if Amy’s cat has been found in his house, 
then he must simply have stolen it. It has 
grieved me to learn that Major Johnson is cap- 
able of anything, even of stealing a cat — a young 
lady’s cat. I beg you to excuse me — I am ex- 
pecting my husband.” 

Nielsen could not stay without being flagrantly 
intrusive. So he went. 

But the cat stayed where she was. 

The Doctor rubbed his hands with delight. 
“We have disposed of one of our documents. 
Amy’s cat, then, is Amy’s cat. Now we have 
to keep an eye on the Derry family, especially 
on Amy, whose maxim in life appears to be to 
lie on every possible occasion.” 

Nielsen nodded. “ But have we really got any 
further. Doctor?” 

“ No,” said the Doctor, “ not yet; but we have 
every reason to return to Miss Amy and her love 


76 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


affair, and to get all the information we can 
about Major Johnson. At all events, we know 
that he is capable of anything, even of stealing 
a young lady’s cat.” 

“ Major Johnson interests me a good deal less 
than Miss Amy Derry,” said Nielsen. 

“ That’s your fault, young man,” said the 
Doctor. “You’ll see, I’m right. The mur- 
dered man was a great donkey, a regular cat- 
stealer, that is, if the murdered man is Major 
Johnson and not some poor devil that the Major 
has killed.” 

“ If he is capable of stealing Amy’s cat, he 
may very well have killed a man. The only ques- 
tion is, did he steal the cat? ” 

Date that afternoon came a messenger boy 
carrying a basket with — ^the cat. There was also 
a letter in a fine, lady’s hand — not the same as that 
of the note the Doctor had found — ^but signed 
Amy Derry. 

It ran as follows : “ The collar belonged to me ; 
I have reasons for wishing it to be believed that 
it was stolen from me. The cat never belonged 
to me ; I send it back.” 

Nothing more. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 77 


The Doctor scratched his neck. “ Now we’ve 
got the cat back, Nielsen, and we must give up 
trying to keep account of Amy’s lies. She’s a 
charming girl, this Amy. But we must be kind 
to her cat, all the same.” 


CHAPTER X 


“Nielsen,” said the Doctor, next morning 
after breakfast, “ now we have arrived at the 
point where a really rational plan of campaign 
must be laid. Let us follow the best examples 
and try to find out what the police would do in 
our case. We have held our inquest on the body, 
we have formed suspicions of a certain Amy, 
and this Amy has not cleared herself. We may 
presume that, after her many lies, great and 
small, and the disagreement between her declara- 
tions and what we have been able to prove, the 
police would make sure of her person. But now 
there is this to be remembered, that Miss Amy is 
under no sort of obligation to speak the truth to 
us. And we cannot arrest her, either, but we 
ought to subject her to a very serious and 
thorough cross-examination. That will be your 
business ; you are an expert at that sort of thing. 
Cudgel your clever brains a bit and see if you 
can’t produce a master-stroke.” 

Nielsen smiled. 

“ I’ll begin by showing my superiority. Doctor. 

78 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 79 


Miss Derry has no obligation at all to make any 
communication to us, but she is evidently afraid 
that we may make things unpleasant for her in 
some way or other; and by working upon this 
fear of hers we shall get most out of her. That 
is a regular police trick. But in order to strike 
we must have weapons, and these weapons we 
must seek from outside. Mr. Sydney Arm- 
strong is our man. We’ll begin with him. Let 
me tell you at once that, according to my view, 
Mr. Armstrong knows nothing about the corpse 
in the cellar. However smirched the conscience 
of this gentleman may be, he has nothing to do 
with this affair. So we say nothing to him. We 
have a sort of hold on him, which I made use 
of; but as it only consists in setting old Mr. 
Derry in motion, and we don’t know how far 
that gentleman will allow himself to be set in 
motion, we shall not be able to use that resource 
again. We know that the Major’s address is 
jposte restante, Hjorring; we suppose that to be 
a lie and that the Major is lying dead in the 
cellar, and that the syndicate of murderers, Mr. 
Throgmorton, Mr. Weston, and Mrs. Weston, 
are staying at Hjorring. All this on the as- 
sumption that Miss Derry is innocent. We must 


80 THE MAN IN THE BASEMEN^ 

know something more. We must know who 
people are, regarded separately; we must kno^ 
their past history, and we must find this out fronji 
Armstrong and from Miss Derry — separat^I^ 
We have now to find out how to make Armstrong 
open his mouth.” 

“ By an appeal to his better feelings we shan’t 
get very far,” said the Doctor doubtfully. ‘‘If 
we were at home, in dear little Coj^enhagen, we 
should soon be able to dig up some half -forgot- 
ten little piece of rascality and hold that over his 
head. Here, everything is on a larger scale.” 

“ Stop,” said Nielsen, “ it always holds good 
that a man’s weak points give clever people a 
chance of managing him. Eight doors from Mr. 
Armstrong lives Mr. Davies, another house 
agent, whose placards jostle Mr. Armstrong’s 
in the windows and areas of all the empty houses. 
These two men are rivals.” 

“Excellent,” interrupted the Doctor. “You 
apply to Mr. Davies and explain how you are 
dissatisfied with Mr. Armstrong; you wave a 
prospect of business in front of Mr. Davies’ 
nose, and you gently squeeze something out of 
Mr. Davies by which you can corner Mr. Arm- 
strong. That is excellent. And yet good peo- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 81 


pie profess to be horrified at meanness, when 
without little tricks of that kind life would be 
simply impossible. Go ahead! ” 

Nielsen rubbed his hands. “ I shall — and 
when Mr. Armstrong, forced by my knowledge, 
has been obliged to tell me all, I shall go, armed 
with what I have found out, to Miss Derry and 
get as much out of her as will enable us, if we 
think fit, to shift the scene of our operations to 
the more familiar ground of our native country.’’ 

“ Meanwhile,” said the Doctor, “ I am going 
to make a sketch of Turner’s immortal ‘ Storm in 
the Channel ’ ; I can still remember that ass of a 
Copenhagen professor who called this superb 
picture a cold in the head, a rotating sneeze — the 
beast! Oh, I’d give something to have him and 
all his colleagues down below in the lime with 
our Mr. X!” 

This was a question which Nielsen, on prin- 
ciple, never discussed with the Doctor. A man 
has a right to ride his hobby in peace, when he 
does so within four walls. 

Nielsen, therefore, went to see Mr. Davies, 
who was quite affable. He complained, in 
gloomy language, of Mr. Armstrong, and Mr. 
Davies regretted that the unkind fates had sent 


82 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


him to that, to say the least, shady agent. When 
Nielsen wanted to know more about Mr. Arm- 
strong, the worthy Mr. Davies wriggled like a 
worm; he was evidently afraid of an action for 
libel; but to a respectable foreign gentleman, 
who, besides, was dissatisfied with his rival, he 
could go so far as to say that Mr. Armstrong’s 
reputation was not of the best. 

He had been implicated in an affair of a 
Building Society which had brought heavy 
losses on a number of people of slender incomes, 
an affair which had resulted in an officer being 
dismissed from the Army — a certain Major 
Johnson, one of the Yorkshire Johnsons — and 
which had placed Mr. Armstrong in anything 
but a favorable light, especially as a particularly 
notorious person, a certain Weston, was also im- 
plicated in it. It was a regular scandal. 

Nielsen pressed for more, but the worthy Mr. 
Davies knew just that, that it was a scandal; he 
did not know the details of the case. 

This annoyed Nielsen, but he parted amicably 
from his new friend, with his pocket full of ad- 
dresses he did not want, and the feeling that 
perhaps he would be able to corner Mr. Arm- 
strong. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 83 


Nielsen sat, stern and reserved, in Mr. Arm- 
strong’s private office, not unlike Bhadamanthus, 
who, according to the Greek myth, judged the 
dead in the world below. He simply flashed with 
offended justice, with violated respectability. 

“ Sir,” he said, “ I came to you with a high 
opinion of this town, whose reputation for re- 
spectability is known all over the world, trusting 
that here I could safely do business with a man 
who had his office in a street like this. I admire 
and honor your country and your city. I had 
confidence in you as an Englishman. I took the 
house you recommended to me; it was too dear, 
but it suited me. My friend and I settled down 
there quietly, confiding in you, Mr. Armstrong.” 

Mr. Armstrong wriggled in his chair; he did 
not know what was coming. 

Nielsen went on: 

“ I am not a nobody, I am a lawyer of stand- 
ing, and I have something to do here. My oc- 
cupation brings me in contact with well-known 
people, I have to give them my address ” 

Armstrong interrupted: 

“ The street is perfectly respectable.” 

“Let me continue,” said Nielsen severely. 
“ I’m not speaking of the street, nor of the house. 


84 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


but of its owners. Major Johnson has been dis- 
missed from the Army on account of a dirty 
piece of business, hasn’t he? Mr. Weston, and 
presumably Throgmorton, too, are, to say the 
least of it, notorious — can you deny it? And 
you yourself, Mr. Armstrong — that affair of the 
Building Society ” 

Armstrong flared up. 

“ I’m not going to be insulted by a man from 
the street ” 

Nielsen looked sharply at the agent and said 
in a tone of derision: 

“ Take it quietly, Mr. Armstrong — the aff air 
is an affair; everybody knows about it. For me 
it may be a matter of indifference what sort of 
people they are who own the house, but if I am 
to be pestered every day on account of these peo- 
ple’s crooked dealings, I have a right to com- 
plain, and I do complain. To you, first of all. I 
have duns continually coming to the door; in 
short, there is every symptom of flimsy credit; 
and besides this, there is that lady I told you 
about — an honorable man’s daughter, who has 
claims on the Major. This kind of thing doesn’t 
amuse me — it worries me, Mr. Armstrong, and 
it excites my suspicion when I And out, in addi- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 85 

tion, that you have been personally mixed up in 
a doubtful transaction with these people. You 
have been telling me lies.’’ 

Mr. Armstrong flushed and tried to speak. 

Nielsen proceeded, raising his voice. 

“ You told me lies — ^you let the house to me, 
saying it belonged to a Major in the Army. 
You didn’t say a word about this Major having 
been cashiered for blackguardly behavior. You 
said you didn’t know who had owned the house 
before him — you, Mr. Armstrong, whose name 
had been mixed with these men’s in a scandalous 
affair. Do you call that gentlemanly conduct — 
no! Is it the conduct of an honorable man? I 
tell you, Mr. Armstrong, I’m not going to put 
up with such treatment. I insist upon knowing 
all, you understand me, alitor, as I’m an honest 
man. I’ll go straight to a lawyer and have the 
whole business sifted to the bottom, I wish to 
know who it is I have to deal with; I’m not going 
to run the risk of paying my money and then 
being turned out of the house because your 
swindlers have no right to it.” 

Nielsen spoke in a loud tone, and Mr. Arm- 
strong felt exceedingly uncomfortable, since 
there were a lot of people in the outer office. 


86 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


The agent turned and twisted and wriggled, but 
fortunately for Nielsen there was something in 
what Mr. Davies had told him. Mr. Armstrong 
could not venture to ride the high horse, and 
Nielsen had the upper hand. It is a man’s little 
weaknesses that put him in the power of those 
stronger and cleverer than himself. Nielsen was 
anything but stupid. Mr. Armstrong surrend- 
ered. What did Nielsen want to know? 

“ Everything,” said Nielsen. 

He got some information. It was true that 
Major Johnson had been implicated in the affair 
of the Building Society; it was an unfortunate 
speculation, nothing more, and Mr. Armstrong’s 
escutcheon was unsmirched. There were other 
reasons for the Major’s being cashiered — purely 
disciplinary reasons. The house belonged to Mr. 
Throgmorton and his sister, Mrs. Weston, in 
common; if the agent had mentioned the Major 
as the owner, it was because the two men, Wes- 
ton and Throgmorton, were deeply compromised 
— ^business misfortunes again — and in particular 
the circumstance that Mr. Weston drank and the 
Major made love to his wife, had got the couple 
a bad name. Mr. Throgmorton had debts, sure 
enough, but the house was not involved in them. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 87 


Nor could Weston’s creditors touch the house. 
Meanwhile these gentlemen had thought it ad- 
visable to leave England for a time. They had 
gone to a seaside place on the west coast of Den- 
mark, for the sake of economy. Whether 
Major Johnson had gone with them, the agent 
did not know. Since the building affair he had 
been a sort of business manager for the Major, 
who had a fortune; but when Nielsen pressed him 
closely, he had to admit that the Major’s affairs 
were a good deal involved. Johnson was par- 
ticularly anxious to keep out of the way of the 
Derry family; he had spread the report that he 
had gone to Burma, and there might be some 
truth in it> as he had given Mr. Throgmorton a 
power of attorney to receive all sums due to him 
and his letters. This power of attorney was 
dated April 30 of the present year. 

Nielsen interrupted: 

‘‘ It comes to this then, that you know all these 
people personally, and you lied to me on the day 
you showed me the house.” 

The agent had to admit this. 

‘Do you know Miss Derry?” was Nielsen’s 
next question. 

“ The young lady has been here once or twice 


88 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


m the last few days. According to my instruc- 
tions, I told her nothing; I had strict orders not 
to tell her anything at all.” 

Nielsen made a mental note that Amy kept up 
her character for lying. 

“ I am glad, Mr. Armstrong, that you have 
put me in the position of being able to test all 
these statements,” said Nielsen, in a milder tone. 
“ My friend and I will now consult an influential 
English acquaintance, as to whether we can con- 
tinue to trust you. For your own sake, I advise 
you not reveal a word of this to your former 
associates in the affair. Your interests will be 
best served by keeping your mouth shut, and, 
besides, I don’t suppose you would do yourself 
any good by telling these gentlemen that you 
have yielded to better impulses and been frank 
with me. You shall not regret your frankness. 
Misfortunes may happen to any of us, and I am 
willing to believe that you have been the victim 
of misfortune. I shall always take your part. 
And, as I told you, I am not a nobody from the 
street. One more question and I have done: 
When did you last see Major Johnson? ” 

The agent rummaged among his papers. “ On 
April 26 he was here with Mr. Throgmorton. I 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 89 


have not seen anything of either of them since 
that day. The power of attorney was sent me 
by post.’’ 

“ And Mr. Weston? ” asked Nielsen. 

“ Mr. Weston I have not seen since the mid- 
dle of April. I did not see much of these gentle- 
men,” added the agent, with a final effort to as- 
sert himself. Nielsen had made an impression 
on him; he politely bowed him out. 

Nielsen went straight home, satisfied with the 
result. 

“ Doctor,” be said, “ now we have made a good 
step in advance. We know that Major Johnson 
made love to Mrs. Weston, that the Major 
wanted to disappear from among the living, or 
that others wanted to make him disappear. This 
happened since the 26th of April this year. We 
know now that Messrs. Weston and Throgmor- 
ton are two very unsympathetic figures, that the 
house does not belong to the Major, and that 
Throgmorton has power to receive the latter’s 
money.” 

The Doctor nodded. This would lead us to 
suppose that the two swindlers, in the interval be- 
tween the 26th and 29th of April, have mur- 
dered the Major and left the country, to settle 


90 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


down, for some unknown reason, in a quiet 
Danish fishing village. Good, we shall be able 
to find them there. But the cat, Amy’s cat? 
Suppose Miss Derry is right, and the cat was not 
hers, but the collar is, and it was not stolen. We 
then have nothing to connect her with the drama 
at Cranhourne Grove. Her case looks much bet- 
ter than before. But, then, why does she tell such 
lies? Let us pass over her lying at first ; but why 
does she tell us now that she knows the Major’s 
address, when, as a matter of fact, she does not 
know it; and what does she want with him? ” 

“ That I shall have to find out,” said Nielsen. 
“After the excellent results I have obtained 
from Mr. Armstrong, I am less anxious about 
how I shall succeed with the young lady. The 
difficulty lies more in getting access to her. I 
must say, that, after the information I have got, 
I want to treat her with every consideration and 
spare her anything in the shape of domestic un- 
pleasantness.” 

The Doctor put his head on one side. 

“ That means that you are now convinced that 
Amy is guiltless? You leave entirely out of the 
reckoning the possibility of the Major’s having 
played a double game — which he evidently has 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 91 


done — keeping up his connection with Miss Amy. 
She may have been driven to desperation; she 
may, in this very house, have taken jealous re- 
venge upon the faithless one, and the two scound- 
rels, Weston and Throgmorton, of whom we may 
now suspect the worst, may have taken advan- 
tage of her deed to secure the pecuniary booty 
for themselves.” 

Nielsen shook his head. 

“ Why, then, should they flee the country.” 

“ Simply because suspicion would fall upon 
them ; besides, these two gentlemen would hardly 
be anxious to have their affairs publicly investi- 
gated. I believe we are doing them a tremendous 
service by keeping all this quiet.” 

Nielsen got up. 

“ Do you want to go to the police now? ” 

“No, by Jove, I don’t!” said the Doctor. 
“ But you, my boy, have just got to get hold of 
Miss Amy as quick as you can and hold the 
pistol to her head. If the girl has clean hands, 
she will at once out with what she knows. You 
need not threaten her with even the slightest un- 
pleasantness. The agent’s story furnishes us 
with a whole arsenal, which you can use with your 
usual discretion and shrewdness.” 


92 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


‘‘ And if she hasn’t clean hands, as you say? ” 
suggested Nielsen. 

“ Then we shall get the solution of the riddle 
from her. You and I will be saved our trip to 
Hjorring, and we can let the police continue the 
case, if we like. If so, we shall stay here, you 
to follow the criminological development of the 
case, and I to put on my canvas Turner’s im- 
mortal ‘ Storm in the Channel.’ ” 

Thereupon Nielsen went to Clarendon Road. 
Madame Sorel had received instructions and was 
unpleasant; he was not received. 

However, he left a card to the following 
eff ect ; 

“ Dear Madam, 

“It is no use refusing to see me. I know 
where Major Johnson is; I am not sure whether 
this may be of interest to you. You began our 
acquaintance; you came to me. I should like to 
arrange this matter with you, not with your 
father. I shall be here again at 11 o’clock to- 
morrow morning. “ Yours truly, 

“ Holger Nielsen.” 

The answer was favorable; it came by tele- 
gram the same evening. 


CHAPTER XI 


Nielsen took the train from Gloucester Road 
to Notting Hill Gate. It was a bright, fresh 
morning, everyone looked happy and good- 
humored; people nodded to each other with a 
friendly greeting, and London lay positively 
bathed in the beautiful spring sunshine. But 
Nielsen could not properly enjoy it. The Un- 
derground suited his mood best, with its unnat- 
ural electric light and its sooty walls and tunnels. 
He did not relish the task of forcing himself 
upon this young woman and gaining her confi- 
dence by threats. But for him a case was a case. 
There was also a personal element in it. He did 
not believe in her guilt; to spare her was just 
what he wanted; she should come out of it with- 
out any worry. She was innocent, and she was 
to help him. 

When he again emerged into daylight, walked 
under the bright green trees of Holland Park 
Avenue, and looked into the gardens on either 
side, gay with red and yellow flowers, he felt a 

93 


94 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


sense of freedom and relief. The feeling of 
spring was upon him, and he had the idea that 
this feeling must communicate itself to her. He 
would win her confidence without using threats, 
since she, the young woman, would grant him, 
the young man, that ready trust which is the pass- 
port of youth. 

The house stood behind trees in a broad, hand- 
some row of villas. Nielsen was admitted and 
found Miss Derry there, tall and elegant, in a 
new, tight-fitting spring costume, and a little 
light straw hat trimmed with flowers. 

She gave him a courteous but rather cool 
greeting and asked him to be seated. 

He told her the object of his visit, and as he 
spoke her mouth closed tighter, her look became 
sharper ; he saw the fight would be a hard one, but 
did not understand why. 

At last she spoke, in a firm, clear voice : 

“ It will not surprise you — a complete stranger 
— that I neither can nor will give you my con- 
fidence. You know — ^you have committed an in- 
trusion and must admit it — ^you know that I have 
been engaged to Major Johnson. You know 
that it is broken off, that my people wish it to be 
broken off ” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 95 


Nielsen interrupted her. 

“ I know, too, that you do not treat it quite in 
that light. You must remember. Miss Derry, 
that you came to my house and asked me to 
forward Major Johnson’s letters to you. I did 
not seek you out; I had no idea who you were, 
until you called. Now I have reasons for wish- 
ing to have full information. I am a man in 
whom you can trust. Fate or accident has 
brought us together, and now I shall not let you 
go. I will have full information.” 

“What right have you?” she asked, rather 
hoarsely. 

“ Ordinary human right. We do not, each of 
us, stand alone on this earth; our paths cross 
those of our fellow-men, and then our interest is 
awakened. It is the instinct of self-preservation, 
a strong, inborn instinct, that makes us, when 
these paths meet, seek to know what has caused 
their meeting. I tell you plainly, a fortnight 
ago — a week ago, the names Derry and John- 
son were nothing to me; now they have excited 
my interest. I have made a study of my fellow- 
men, it is the occupation of my life, not idle 
curiosity. And here we are in presence of a 
crime/" 


96 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Miss Derry turned pale. 

Nielsen continued. “ Here we are in presence 
of a crime, I say. And I am going to get to the 
bottom of it. I am not in the habit of idly look- 
ing on ; it is my nature to take an important part 
in anything that happens to me. This Major 
Johnson is the center of a series of actions which 
are summed up in what we call ‘ a crime.’ It is 
my right as a human being to assist in protecting 
society from crime. That being so, I shall sit 
here and wait for you to speak.” 

“ I don’t understand what you mean,” she said 
in a trembling voice. 

“ If I knew all about it, I should not intrude 
upon you. I took that house, and I was told it 
belonged to a Major Johnson, who had gone to 
Burma. That did not concern me, I was to pay 
this owner’s agent. Then you came and asked 
me to send this man’s letters to you. I then 
questioned the agent, and he protested very de- 
cidedly against this; he showed me a power of 
attorney from another person, and he forbade 
me to comply with your request. We found a 
letter from you — it was from you, wasn’t it? 
You told us an untruth. You wanted to be rid 
of us. That little episode of the cat that was 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 97 


living in the house, and had a collar with your 
name, made us still more suspicious of you. Y ou 
tried to get me to act in collusion with you and 
deceive your parents. Major Johnson wished to 
disappear, the agent tells me. You say you 
know where he is. You told untruths before. 
Now I will tell you what I believe. Major John- 
son has fallen into the hands of two impudent 
criminals, who misuse his name, spend his money 
— and perhaps have designs on his life.” 

Miss Derry listened open-mouthed until the 
end of Nielsen’s long speech. Then she sank 
back, as though in weariness. 

Nielsen observed her narrowly. Her face 
could tell him — nothing new. But she might be 
thinking of anything — and of what Nielsen 
wanted to find out. 

He continued : 

“ I only ask you to tell me frankly: Do you 
know where Major Johnson is? and do you know 
whether it was of his own free will that he placed 
himself in the hands of these two men, Weston 
and Throgmorton? Do you know that he has 
fallen into the snares of a woman, Mrs. Weston? 
and why do you want his letters to be sent to 
you? ” 


98 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ I decline to answer,” she said firmly. 

“ Very well,” said Nielsen, “ I can’t force you. 
Perhaps you will regret not having spoken now ; 
it is quite possible that you may find yourself 
face to face with those who will have the means 
of making you speak.” 

She rose and said proudly: 

“ Your threats do not frighten me. There is 
nothing for me to be ashamed of in what has 
passed between him and me. I have acted 
rightly. I can answer before God and man for 
what I have done. I am not to be moved by 
threats.” 

“ That means nothing,” thought Nielsen; but 
he saw that he could not threaten her. Nor would 
he say anything about the corpse in the cellar. 
What he had to do was to find out what it was 
that she could answer for before God and man. 
He changed his tone. 

“ Miss Derry,” he said, “ I do not wish to 
press you. I am seeking your help in your own 
interest. I must see Major Johnson — I must 
speak to him. Not about you; I shall not meddle 
with your relations to him; I only ask you to tell 
me, where is he? ” 

“ I do not know,” was her brief answer. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 99 


“ Does that mean that you won’t tell me? ” 

She answered calmly and quite collectedly: 

“ If I knew, I should not tell you. I don’t 
trust you.” 

Nielsen rose. 

“ Very well,” he said, ‘‘ I beg you to remember 
that if anything disagreeable happens, you have 
yourself to thank. I do not wish to continue this 
conversation.” 

“ Will you go to my father? ” she asked rather 
hoarsely. “Don’t do that — if you do that, I 
shall go, and my fate will be on your head.” 

Her cheeks flushed and her bosom rose and fell 
in agitation. As she stood there he could see that 
she was a thoroughly British, high-mettled, and 
courageous girl, who meant what she said. She 
had a will; he must take care not to bend the 
bow till it broke. 

“ I am a gentleman,” said Nielsen in a cour- 
teous tone. “ I have to deal with you, not with 
your father. You decline to give me any infor- 
mation. I believe you do so because you yourself 
know nothing. If you knew anything, it would 
be foolish of you to put me on a false scent. You 
do not know where the Major is, and you would 
give all you possess to know it.” 


100 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Her face was unmoved, she stood erect as 
before. 

“ I promise you, Miss Derry, that as soon as 
I find out where he is, you shall be the first to 
learn it. I give you my word of honor on that. 
If he should be dead, you shall know it. I will 
find out, as I told you before.” 

“ Major Johnson is not dead,” she said quietly. 

“ If he had been, you would have known it? ” 
asked Nielsen carelessly. 

She said nothing. 

“Answer me one thing, only one: Have you 
spoken to this man since the 28th of April, this 
year?” 

“Mr. Nielsen,” she said in a firm voice, “I 
see from your whole behavior that you are a 
police spy — ^you must excuse my saying so — ^but 
that is just what you are. I shall not give him 
up to the police, whatever wrong he may have 
done. If you like, you can have me arrested. I 
don’t care.” 

Nielsen bowed. 

“ You’re mistaken. Miss Derry. I haven’t the 
slightest wish to molest either you or him. You 
think he has left the country with two suspicious 
characters; I believe he is still in this coun- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 101 


try — silent, helpless, let us say right out — mur- 
dered/" 

“ You are exerting yourself in vain, Mr. Niel- 
sen,” she said quietly; “ and you’re wasting your 
time.” 

Nielsen had the same impression himself. 
“ Very well,” he said, “ let it be understood then. 
If I find him. I’ll write to you, whether it’s in 
China or Peru. Find him I will, dead or alive. 
And then you’ll come.” 

She smiled sadly. 

“ In that case you will hardly have any use for 
me. I do not know what your motives may be, 
but you must be able to understand that with me 
you are wasting your time. This is mine — my 
own — and I don’t abandon it to anyone.” 

Nielsen bowed and took his leave. 


CHAPTER XII 


“ You hardly came out of that so well as you 
did with Armstrong/’ said the Doctor, when 
Nielsen had finished his story. “Amy is too 
much for you. I’m beginning to think you’ll 
be shipwrecked over this business ; you’ll go 
ashore on the female sandbank. Shame on you 
— a big, strong man! You’ll see — she’s done it. 
She has him on her conscience, that’s what makes 
her so sure and so determined to keep her mouth 
shut.” 

“ I don’t believe it,” said Nielsen. He sat 
turning over a time-table. “ The Esbjerg boat 
goes to-morrow; we’ll go to Hjorring, Doctor, 
and see what we can make out of the others 
first.” 

“ In the meantime she’ll be off,” said the Doc- 
tor teasingly. “ She’s making fools of us.” 

“ No, she won’t,” said Nielsen, shutting the 
time-table with a bang. “If she was going to run 
away, she’d have gone long ago. I believe in her 
innocence. She looked honest, I’m sure.” 

102 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 103 


“ Even when she was lying/’ put in the Doctor. 

“ She lied with conviction; it’s womanly deli- 
cacy, this. She won’t confide in a man. She 
loves this fellow, whatever he may be, and she will 
find him, forgive him; in short, she wants him. 
And he is preserved in lime in the cellar here.” 

The Doctor muttered: “Unless her cock- 
sureness is derived from the simple circumstance 
that she knows him to be alive. You’re insisting 
now that it’s the Major who is murdered. How 
do you know that? ” 

“ I’ll tell you. Doctor. It must be he. He 
has given a power of attorney to a questionable 
person, enabling this person to receive his let- 
ters and draw his money. A man doesn’t do a 
thing like that. What pleasure would it be to 
him to have these swindlers taking his money? 
What advantage was he to gain by disappearing? 
He is not wanted by the police, and he could 
easily keep out of Miss Amy’s way, if he wanted 
to. On the other hand, it is far more probable 
that the other two have made use of his death to 
get possession of his fortune, as far as it goes.” 

“ There may be something in that,” said the 
Doctor, “ but why didn’t you say that to Miss 
Derry? ” 


104 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ For the simple reason, Doctor, that I don’t 
know yet whether it isn’t Miss Derry who mur- 
dered him. I mean, dealt him the blow, nothing 
more, for the others have had all the advantage 
of it. If that is the case, we ought to proceed 
against her at once, and I don’t want to do that. 
I like the girl, she is brave, active, and deter- 
mined. If she has stabbed her Major, she had 
a good reason for it. All we have to do is to 
move from here and to inform these noble gentle- 
men that they are discovered and that they will 
have to deal with the London police. That will 
take place while we are in Denmark and outside 
it all.” 

“We are to beat a retreat, then,” said the 
Doctor sarcastically. “ And what is to happen 
to justice and the vindication of right? ” 

“That won’t be my affair,” said Nielsen 
shortly. “ When we’re in Denmark I shall find 
out everything through the three people we shall 
find there. I shall be able to manage them, and 
when we have reached the goal, we can talk again 
over what we are to do. Meanwhile Miss Amy 
is respited.” 

“And Madam Sivertsen and the cat?” asked 
the Doctor. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 105 


“ They shall stay here. I’ll go to that much 
expense over the business myself, unless you like 
to go shares with me. We two will leave to- 
morrow, and the other two shall stay here. Then 
if we come to a point where we wish to abandon 
the aff air, if, that is. Miss Derry has acted as we 
think — ^then we call Madam Sivertsen home and 
send a message to Miss Derry that the cat is at 
her disposal.” 

“ And supposing the cat belongs to the other 
lady? You forget there are two ladies.” 

Nielsen smiled. “ I only know one. Doctor. 
She has given me work enough. All I have got 
out of her is that, in any case, she has acted 
rightly, that is to say, without any mean object. 
I don’t think he was much of a fellow, our man 
in the cellar; he doesn’t interest me much now. 
But one thing is settled, the riddle is to be solved.” 

The Doctor said nothing. 

But they did as Nielsen had proposed. Next 
evening they left London, and when they stood 
on the deck of the Esbjerg boat and watched the 
lights of Harwich disappear in the distance, the 
Doctor said, rather derisively: 

“ We didn’t make a very long visit.” 

“ Wait a bit,” said Nielsen. “ We don’t know 


106 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


yet whether we mayn’t have to come back again. 
In fact, we don’t know anything at all about the 
whole business.” 

“Do you think,” asked the Doctor, “that at 
this point the police would have known more than 
we do? For, if so, we have not distinguished 
ourselves very notably.” 

Nielsen shook his head. 

“ I believe that our friend Mr. Sydney Arm- 
strong would be very much obliged to us if he 
knew what we have done for him; he would cer- 
tainly have been sitting cooling his heels in a 
police-cell before this. And then I think Miss 
Derry would have fared very badly — perhaps 
she would be dead. This determined young lady 
seems to me to be capable of taking even the 
strongest measures, if things go seriously against 
her. She would scarcely have confessed her 
crime. If she is the guilty party, there will have 
been no witnesses, and nothing will induce her 
to make her story known. The trio we are now 
looking for would certainly have made them- 
selves scarce. Yes, Doctor, it is not my habit to 
boast, but I really think that at present all 
parties have been best served by our acting as we 
have done.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 107 


“ You and I especially,” laughed the Doctor. 
“ For we should undoubtedly have been the first 
to make the acquaintance of an English jail. 
It may well be that we are not out of the wood 
yet, if events should bring us back to London. 
The longer the time that passes, the surer we are 
to be caught, so long as we are the tenants of the 
house; and Mr. Sydney Armstrong will be ready 
enough to put in a good word for us. So at 
present we must be satisfied and — cautious.” 

It was summer, the sea was calm and the sky 
clear. The Doctor sat all day and painted the 
shining water. Nielsen stood gazing at the little 
crested waves; his thoughts were far away, but 
it seemed as though the case faded into insignifi- 
cance in the vast free space around him. It had 
no real hold on him, it was too abstract, too much 
an affair of the intellect, there was too little 
spontaneous feeling in it. 

Nielsen was still a young man, and Amy — the 
Amy in the case was too impersonal for him. 

Their course now lay towards Denmark; in 
Cranbourne Grove, in the cabin behind the 
kitchen, sat Madam Sivertsen with Amy’s cat. 
And in the cellar, still and quiet, lay the dead 
man. 



BOOK II 


LOKKEN 



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BOOK II 
LOKKEN 


CHAPTER I 

On the top of a hill, about two miles from the 
Bay of Sorrow, in a fertile tract of country, lies 
Bor glum Abbey. Broad and white, with red- 
tiled roof, it looks like a beacon from the sea, and 
from the land, like an old mansion, one wing of 
which is the ancient episcopal church of Vend- 
syssel. In the Middle Ages Borglum Abbey was 
a Premonstrant establishment and the seat of the 
bishop to the north of Limf jord. In those days 
we hear of many feuds and many mighty bishops. 
Then the decoying beacon used to burn on Rud- 
bjerg clilf, drawing the sailors to land, so that 
their vessels were caught on the rocks and they 
themselves met their death in the waves or at 
the hands of the bishop’s men-at-arms. There 
were tales of secret passages from Borglum to 
the nuns’ convent at Vrislev, of feuds between 
the lords and bishops and of the last bishop of 
Borglum — Niels Stygge Rosenkrantz, whose 
111 


112 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


gravestone is still to be seen in the wall of the 
nave of the Cathedral, and who sums up in him- 
self all that has come down to us of the bishops 
of Borglum. Fond of women, fond of gold, 
quarrelsome, lazy, ignorant, malicious, and domi- 
neering was this bishop, of whom the chronicle 
of Skiby relates that he only possessed one virtue : 
abstinence from wine. He was the last, he and 
his dean, who never really became bishop ; Stygge 
lay low when the torch of the Reformation was 
lighted, toying with Elsebeth Gyldenstjerne at 
Borglum Abbey; and when the peasants overran 
the monastery Stygge crept into a baking-oven 
and hid himself. 

Then the monastery was burnt and fell into 
ruins, and after the civil war it fell to the Crown, 
which gave it in exchange, a hundred years later, 
to a knight named Peder Reedtz. Since then the 
ahbey has changed hands many times : the church 
falling into ruin, it came into the possession of 
wealthy slave-dealers, who whitewashed the choir 
and set up altars of painted wood with gaudy, 
parvenus’ coats of arms; it came into the hands 
of enterprising agriculturists, who pulled down 
the aisles and built cowsheds and barns out of 
them; but it stood, as it stands now towering 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 113 


over the hill, with its gleaming white walls and 
red-tiled roof. Across the hill runs the road 
from Vraa to Lokken; on the old rampart of the 
castle stands a disused mill, and from here you 
have a wide view over land and sea to the hills of 
Hjorring, across moors and bogs to the great 
fens, and even, between tufted hills, as far as the 
town of Aalborg. Tise church stands out on its 
headland, overlooking the sea ; to the west flashes 
Vennebjerg church and the lighthouse on Rud- 
bjerg cliff ; to the north Hirtsholm lighthouse 
and Raabjerg kiln, close to the extreme point 
of Jutland. 

More than twenty churches may be counted in 
the broad landscape ; heavy granite churches with 
step-gables, towers, or with flat outlines. And 
the Cathedral itself is shorn of its tower, which 
fell with the last of the bishops before the Are of 
Lutherism. 

But away in the Bay of Sorrow lies Lokken, 
friendly and inviting, with its two little church- 
spires and a great sea-mark painted red: a little 
fishing village among the sand-dunes. 

Here it was that Holger Nielsen and Dr. 
Koldby were to solve the mystery of Cranbourne 
Grove. 


114 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Mr. Armstrong had given the address of poste 
restantej Hjorring. The postmaster at Hjor- 
ring said, in answer to their inquiries, that an 
Englishman of the name mentioned had been 
staying at Lokken since the beginning of May, 
and so the two seekers of justice turned their 
steps to Lokken. 

Nielsen stopped the carriage on Borglum Hill 
and got out. He knew and loved the spot, one 
of the most beautiful in Denmark. The sun was 
high and there was a stiff breeze; Nielsen drew 
a long breath and, turning to his companion, 
said: 

“ In this clear air it is impossible to conceal 
anything. Look how the sun shines on the blue 
water out there. If the land does not help us, 
we’ll call on the sea for aid, the sea there in the 
west.” 

“ It’s better here than in London,” said the 
Doctor. “ Clearer, somehow. It makes one gape 
like a fish on dry land, eh? ” And he added: “ I 
think Denmark is best, after all. What do you 
say to leaving the whole story to take care of 
itself, calling Madam Sivertsen back and giving 
up the house to Amy’s cat? ” 

Nielsen turned and came back to the carriage. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 115 


“No sentiment, Doctor. We have a duty to 
perform. Jump in and let’s get on.” 

They descended Borglum Hill. 

They made slow progress ; the road was heavy 
and sandy, and the horses heavy and slow. The 
carriage groaned on its old wheels, and the 
driver was a West Jute and took his time. 

“What’s your plan now?” asked the Doctor. 

“None,” was the answer; “or perhaps a re- 
connoitering. But look there. Doctor, she’ll come 
to grief ! ” 

The Doctor looked over the front seat of the 
charabanc and saw just in front of them a lady 
on a bicycle, who had evidently lost control of 
her machine. It swerved to the right and then to 
the left, and suddenly she was planted in the 
ditch. Two gentlemen, evidently of the same 
party, came cycling past the carriage, just where 
the road made a sharp turn at the foot of the 
hill. They stopped short. 

The carriage stopped, too. 

The lady was sitting at the edge of the ditch, 
looking pale, and in some pain; she was holding 
her left wrist with the other hand. 

Nielsen jumped out, and the Doctor also 
stepped cautiously down from the carriage. 


116 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

They both approached the lady and her com- 
panions. 

“ Impossible,” they heard one of the latter 
say; “quite impossible.” 

“ English,” said the Doctor. 

Nielsen raised his hat and asked if he could 
be of any service. He spoke in English, and saw 
at once that he was welcome. It was better still 
when the Doctor revealed himself as a medical 
man. The lady had sprained her wrist and was 
hors de combat; the bicycle was twisted in the 
fork and useless. The result was a wet compress, 
made with a handkerchief dipped in a pool of 
water, and then the lady was given a seat in the 
charabanc, where the cycle was also taken across 
a seat. 

That was the introduction, and it was a strange 
one. 

The gentlemen introduced themselves as Mr. 
Weston and Mr. Throgmorton of London, the 
lady was Mr. Throgmorton’s sister, Mrs. 
Weston. 

Dr. Koldby took this remarkable piece of 
intelligence very coolly, but Nielsen turned 
red. 

That was, nevertheless, how it was, and not a 
bit otherwise. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 117 


The trio on the road were the people from 
Cranbourne Grove; only the murdered man was 
missing. He was not there. 

And his name turned out to be Johnson, just 
as it should! 

The charabanc rolled along over the old chaus- 
see by Furreby Beck, past the Mission-house, 
the church, and the school, into the sandy streets 
of Lokken and over the clattering boards that 
covered the gutters up to the market-place, where 
it stopped in front of the hotel, with one wheel 
sunk in the black slimy gutter. 

Now Nielsen and the Doctor had arrived at 
their destination, and Mrs. Weston was grateful, 
though tormented with pain. 

The local doctor was sent for — ^Dr. Koldby 
was not a man to do any quack work, or to in- 
terfere with a colleague. 

Mrs. Weston was put to bed. 

But Mr. Weston and Mr. Throgmorton de- 
clared that it was higher powers that had brought 
the two friends to Lokken. 

Dr. Koldby did not contradict them, though 
he was in a high degree unorthodox. Nielsen, 
for his part, was thinking of Mrs. Weston, her 
delicate, pale, suffering face, and the dull help- 
less pain. 


118 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

The two friends stood in their room at the back 
of the hotel, formerly a tradesman’s storehouse. 

“I know what you’re thinking about, Niel- 
sen,” said the Doctor. 

Nielsen looked at him. 

‘‘ She is innocent — and now Miss Derry’s 
shares are going down. If that long, bony Eng- 
lishman is Mr. Weston, things will look bad for 
Miss Derry. Nielsen, this is beginning well. 
Even the most commonplace of novel-writers 
would have thought twice about arranging a 
meeting and an accident like the one that has 
been arranged by the powers above to-day. Let 
us learn from this to be indulgent to the novel- 
ists; life occasionally makes its romances very 
straight to the point, and, queer enough, just in 
the right places.” 

Nielsen shook his head. 

“We must beware. Doctor, of all precon- 
ceived opinions, you know.” 

“ We take it in turns to tell each other that,” 
said the Doctor. “ You especially ought to re- 
member that, when suspected people turn out to 
be of the female sex and young and lovely. 
Thank your stars you’ve got an elderly, disil- 
lusioned misogynist with you. But I’ll tell you 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 119 


one thing — I only hope this lady’s name is not 
Amy, too, if so I shall protest ” 

“ Pat,” said Nielsen — the two Englishmen 
were passing the window, which looked on to the 
yard. 

One of them said to the other in English : 

“ The Doctor says Amy will be all right in a 
day or two.” 

The Doctor — ^in this case Dr. Koldby — said 
nothing at all. 

But both he and Nielsen thought of the cat. 

And at last the Doctor said: 

“ Nielsen, we ought to have packed up the 
animal and brought it with us to Lokken.” 


CHAPTER II 


The beach at Lokken is broad, white, and flat 
* — of sand, nothing but fine sand; low dunes of 
drifting sand, stopped by the way and settled 
among tufts of rough grass. The dunes have not 
been there long; Lokken skippers remember in 
their childhood, when they used to sail on their 
fathers’ ships to Norway, that Lokken was the 
mart of Hjorring; some of the storehouses of 
that time are still standing; they lay between 
thatched fishers’ cottages, staring out over the 
bay. And, no doubt, that was how Lokken 
looked when the English in 1801 hove to out in 
the bay and fired heavy cannon-balls into the 
town. The cannon-balls are still there, but the 
sand-dunes conceal the town. The sea has sent 
its sand to choke it, and the Mid- Jutland Rail- 
way has cut it off from the land of the living. 

A hundred fishermen — a few hundred souls in 
all — that is the town of Lokken in our day. 

But the sands are broad and white, and in 
summer time Lokken is full of visitors. When 
the bay is smooth and bright and the sun sends 
120 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 121 


its beams down over Rudbjerg cliffs, which rise 
abruptly from the sea to the north and shine over 
the long stretch of beach that runs south past 
Blokhus till it ends in the steep descent of Bov- 
bjerg, then Lokken rivals the shores of the Medi- 
terranean, blue and white, with sand-dunes yel- 
low and green, and red roofs up to the ridge of 
the hills. 

And that was how Lokken was looking now, 
warm and bathed in sunshine. 

Down on the beach, just above high-water 
mark, stood the heavy, white bathing-machines 
belonging to the hotel; and Martin and his wife 
put their backs into it and shoved them right 
down to the water’s edge. The visitors sat doz- 
ing in their beach chairs, while the children were 
playing and digging on the sands. Further out, 
the bathers, men and women together, joked and 
laughed in the warm, shallow water, and beyond 
them the fishermen busied themselves seriously 
with the smacks and motor-boats, as though the 
holiday side of life had nothing to do with them. 
They were seamen returned from long voyages, 
sailors engaged in daily work at home, men of 
few words and mostly young, and mechanicians; 
not long-bearded fisher-folk in leather jackets. 


122 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

such as you see on the walls of picture-gallerieSj 
but working men of the present day, voters and 
social democrats. 

Nielsen sat in a beach chair, talking English 
to Mrs. Weston. She had recovered from the 
accident, could use her hand again, and the ac- 
quaintance was made. Mrs. Weston was hand- 
some, slender, with brilliant black hair and black 
eyes. Her oval face was rather pale, but her 
complexion was pure and her skin smooth. She 
spoke little, but evidently liked having a young 
man to talk to her, and Nielsen talked well and 
readily. 

The two Englishmen loafed about the beach; 
they would have liked to go sailing, but it was 
not the custom at Lokken. Now and then they 
went out with the fishermen, trolling for mack- 
erel, or they would get on their bicycles and take 
a run along the beach before the west wind, when 
it was blowing. 

Mrs. Weston did not talk much to them; a 
strangely irritable look came into her great dark 
eyes when her husband addressed her, and as for 
her brother, she seemed to dislike him altogether. 
It was evidently he who was in command. He 
made all the arrangements with the hotel pro- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 128 


prietor, gave all the orders, and he ordered the 
other two about in a short and sharp tone. They 
seemed to obey. He was short and thickset, very 
unlike his sister, though he, too, was very dark. 
He was marked with small-pox, and had piercing 
gray eyes, unpleasant and unfriendly. Every- 
body in the place got out of his way; the hotel 
proprietor complained of his exactingness and 
impolite behavior. Mr. Weston was inoffensive, 
tall, thin, and tiresome. He seemed to be much 
taken up with his wife, in spite of the unkind way 
in which she treated him. They were not like a 
married couple, and they had separate rooms in 
the hotel. 

Nielsen, on the other hand, seemed to please 
the young lady. He sat next to her at table, she 
listened to him readily, and smiled in a rather 
melancholy way when he talked. 

Dr. Koldby sat among the sand-dunes paint- 
ing, and that disposed of him. 

There was much talk about the English people 
at Lokken. Nobody knew where they came 
from. They themselves said nothing, and Niel- 
sen found out nothing either. Englishmen have 
a way of minding their own business. 

The landlord of the hotel reported that they 


124 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


had arrived early, before the regular season had 
opened. They paid punctually and seemed to be 
well off; they did not get many letters, and they 
held aloof from other people. The accident that 
had thrown them together with Nielsen and 
Koldby was the first thing that had occasioned 
any sort of connection between the Englishmen 
and the rest of the visitors. As the earliest ar- 
rivals, they had their places at the top of the 
table, and there they sat and made themselves at 
home. 

The other visitors — ^mostly tradespeople from 
the towns of East Jutland — looked upon them 
with distrust, and continued to do so. Nielsen 
and Koldby had been registered at the hotel as 
“ English,” and the coolness shown towards the 
English people was transferred to them, accord- 
ing to the traditional usage of Danish seaside 
hotels. 

This suited Nielsen very well. Without hav- 
ing any fixed plan, he attached himself to the 
young lady; he could see that she liked him. As 
for confidence, she showed him none and never 
spoke of herself, nor did Nielsen ask her any 
questions. He could see, though, that she longed 
to be back in England, and that the society of her 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 125 


two companions was painful to her. But he could 
not make out which was the more disagreeable to 
her ; the husband, whom she seemed to despise, or 
the brother, whom she apparently detested. The 
brother had power over her, that was clear; and 
Nielsen connected this in his own way with the 
adventure of Cranbourne Grove. As for plans, 
he had none. As things were there was really 
nothing to be done; he had first to win her friend- 
ship, then perhaps her confidence, and so to build 
up a foundation, from chance words and expres- 
sions, for the suspicion which as yet was form- 
less and vague. It was not a very honorable way, 
but as things stood it was the only method of go- 
ing to work. 

“ Mrs. Weston,” said Nielsen, “ how is it that 
you came to choose this side of the North Sea? 
There are lots of English seaside places on the 
opposite coast, and you don’t seem to care about 
the country or the people over here.” 

She shook her head. 

“ One is not always master of one’s actions, 
Mr. Nielsen. We have to spend this summer by 
the sea for the sake of my nerves; it is cheaper 
here, and besides — ^my brother and my husband 
wish it. That is why I am here.” 


126 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

“You would prefer not to be here?’’ asked 
Nielsen. 

She looked up with a tired smile. 

“ I have so few wishes, none at all, really. I 
am tired, I long for rest. I like to sit still and 
look out over the sea, that murmurs so pleasantly 
here. And I like to hear you talk. You talk 
quietly and pleasantly; only I don’t like to hear 
you ask questions. I never ask questions, and 
there is so much else to talk about besides our- 
selves. You can talk about art, about music, 
about books.” 

Nielsen shrugged his shoulders. “ I prefer 
talking about men and women, and, as you have 
noticed, about crime and guilt. That is my 
hobby, and perhaps it bores you. But, after all, 
men and women are what we have most interest 
in hearing about, and in talking to you I should 
like very much to know who and what you are.” 

“ That is a pleasant form for curiosity, isn’t 
it? ” she replied. “ I am nothing, I am nobody. 
But you are right to talk about crime and guilt, 
as you say; that subject interests me, too, es- 
pecially when you talk about it — ^you, whom your 
friend the painter calls a Utopian. Dr. Koldby 
told me yesterday that you deny outright that 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 127 


there is such a thing as crime. Perhaps then you 
don’t even believe in wicked people? ” 

Nielsen shrugged his shoulders. 

“ That depends on what you understand by 
wicked people. Everything depends on the con- 
struction one puts upon words.” 

“ I was thinking, for instance, of a man who 
does not shrink from any deed, however bad, if 
only it will advance his own interests. A man 
who poisons the lives of others simply for the 
sake of doing evil. A man for whom evil itself 
is a joy.” 

“ I deny to begin with that such beings are 
to be found,” said Nielsen. “ Wickedness is, as 
far as I can see, only a misunderstanding of the 
relation between means and object. The best 
actions may seem bad if this relation be not con- 
sidered ; but that any man should do evil without 
an object, I do not believe, and let me remark 
that the object itself must always be, at the least, 
an imaginary advantage to the person concerned. 
So that I believe in mistaken calculations, but not 
in conscious wickedness.” 

Nielsen said this with a purpose; he thought 
he saw what she was aiming at, and he egged her 
on by contradicting her. 


128 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ Then don’t you believe in crimes and crimi- 
nals?” she asked. 

“ I believe in crimes — as for criminals, my defi- 
nition is somewhat different from the ordinary 
one. In fact, by criminals I merely understand 
individuals who, without having a means of live- 
lihood, sponge upon society by preying upon the 
other members of society ; this they do by actions 
which are not of the nature of labor, but which 
constitute an appropriation of benefits without 
giving any equivalent for them. This is a social 
evil of which much might be said, but it is rather 
of an epidemic than of an acute character, and 
the criminals who appear least dangerous, petty 
thieves and vagabonds, are really the most dan- 
gerous.” 

She looked up. “ But what about murderers? ” 

“ Murderers are people who stand in a doubt- 
ful position. It may very well be a crime to kill 
a man, but it need not be so. In war the greatest 
manslayer is the greatest hero, and we are 
brought up to honor the names that are connected 
with the most brilliant wholesale manslaughter. 
To kill is an action like all other actions — it may 
be justified, and it may be unjustified. It all de- 
pends on the motives.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 129 


She sat drawing figures with her parasol in the 
sand. 

“ The Scripture tells us ” 

“ Mrs. Weston,” said Nielsen, “ let us leave the 
Scriptures on one side. It has been too much mis- 
used to be applied in our case. My contention is, 
briefly, that we have no right to deprive another 
person of life except in the case of its being 
necessary in order to preserve one’s own or that 
of some other person whose life has a value for 
us. But because it is thus unlawful to deprive 
another of his life, it is not necessarily a crime ; it 
only becomes so when the action can be included 
in the category of parasitical actions that I was 
talking of just now.” 

Mrs. Weston looked up with a slight smile. 

“ Then you mean to say that only vagabonds 
and poor people who won’t work can commit 
murder as a crime? ” 

“ Yes,” said Nielsen. “ I should be glad to 
have that settled as a principle. But I must add 
at once that the designation crime can also be 
used for all cases where the deed comes under 
the head of social transactions, of which the nor- 
mal condition is that he who benefits must give 
an equivalent. A millionaire can commit a mur- 


130 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


der of this criminal kind. Well, perhaps you 
don’t understand that. I .mean, simply, that it is 
the motive that determines this, and the motive 
must be of a social kind to make it a crime.” 

“ Otherwise it is permitted to kill,” she said. 
“ That is what you mean, isn’t it? ” 

“ I didn’t say that. You must remember, we 
are talking of criminals, of wicked people. I 
say that there are criminals, there are crimes, 
there are, in fact, actions which must be judged 
and explained by their motives. If we could find 
a new name for them, it would be the first step. 
We must judge the motives to judge the actions, 
and at present the opposite is what is done. But 
of course I can’t explain all this to you in a con- 
versation on these sunny sands. I only wanted 
to show you the line to follow. For you seem to 
take an interest in murder and murderers.” 

“ I? ” she said in alarm. “ No, to tell you the 
truth, it is only newspapers and detective stories 
that have set me thinking of murders. Thank 
God, most of us pass our lives without coming 
personally in contact with anything of that sort. 
But it interests me. You know, it interests every- 
body.” 

Nielsen had risen. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 131 


“ Of course, it interests everybody. I person- 
ally have come in contact with a very remarkable 
murder case — well, I won’t tell you about it to- 
day, but some other time. I can assure you it is 
interesting, and it will illustrate my fundamental 
view — which, of course, is best illustrated by ex- 
amples.” 

Mrs. Weston smiled. 

“You are right there. For with all respect for 
your eloquence your theories about murder and 
murderers are not altogether clear.” 

“ I hope to make them so,” said Nielsen. “ It 
is my hobby, and I shall do my best to show you 
what I mean.” 

“ Why me ? ” she asked. 

“ Because you interest me deeply, Mrs. 
Weston.” 

“ It’s just lunch time,” she said, getting up. 

They walked together through the sand-dunes, 
where a lane had been dug between banks and 
fenced. 

On the beach, by this lane, ran the town drain, 
stinking and stagnant in the heat of the sun. 

“ I suppose that is Danish,” said Mrs. Weston; 
“ to poison the beautiful fresh air with a swamp 
like that.” 


132 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ It is poverty/’ said Nielsen. “ The town can- 
not afford to build a proper drain, so the gutters 
of Lokken have to smell and the beach must be 
poisoned by this swamp/’ 

“ In England it would not be allowed,” she 
said. 

“ In England there is lots of money. But Den- 
mark, as the poet sings, is a poor little land, and 
Lokken, with all its beauty, is a poor little town. 
But you, Mrs. Weston, who are quite right in 
praising the undoubted advantages of your own 
country — why are you living out of that country, 
where alone you seem to feel at home? ” 

Mrs. Weston stopped and looked at him seri- 
ously. 

“ Mr. Nielsen,” she said. “ You have been a 
good companion to me during the last tedious 
days. I feel as if it refreshed me to talk to you. 
But you must do me a favor — ask no questions. 
I am here against my will, but even if you were 
the dearest friend of my childhood, I could not 
tell you why I am here. Now that you know it 
is a secret, you won’t ask any more.” 

“ Of course not,” said Nielsen. 

But now he had found out that Mrs. Weston 
was there against her will; that there were men 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 133 


around her who did evil for its own sake, and that 
she was interested in murders. 

He could have told himself that in advance — 
but still he thought it was something. 

“ Not much, though,’’ thought Dr. Koldby — 
rightly. After lunch he and Nielsen took a turn 
on the sands towards Nybask, which appears, flat 
and waterless in summer, among the sand-dunes 
about a mile south of Lokken. 

The Doctor chaffed Nielsen about the English 
lady. 

“ The whole hotel is talking about you two,” 
he said. “ At first I left you alone. I thought 
of course that you were out after discoveries, in 
your character of avenger of Society. But now 
the fat cloth merchant from Banders and his old 
woman have dinned my ears so full of spiteful 
things about you^ that I begin to be suspicious. 
Nielsen, my boy, you begin as an original avenger 
of justice in tragedy style, and you will end as 
a ladykiller in operetta style, with love and all the 
rest of it, just like the singer who carries his be- 
loved in his arms out into the water every morn- 
ing, to the scandal of the whole congregation at 
bathing time.” 

“ You’re jocular. Doctor,” said Nielsen. “ And 


184 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


you are so far right, in that the murder itself, as 
we stand here far from the scene of it and among 
the living people concerned in it, disappears into 
the background, becomes something quite ab- 
stract, something psychologically different from 
what it was at Cranbourne Grove.’’ 

“ In which form do you prefer it? ” asked the 
Doctor. 

“ In this form, certainly,” was the answer. 

“ But what will you do ? ” 

Nielsen stretched and turned to the sea, which 
lay before him, glancing in the sun. “ I shall do 
just what the situation demands. Doctor. Let 
everything come about of itself, and observe — 
observe until I can see clearly.” 

“And then?” 

Nielsen turned round and laid his hand on the 
Doctor’s shoulder. 

“ Then perhaps I shall shut my eyes and not 
see any more.” 

“ That is to say, you will give Mr. Armstrong 
notice and send for Madam Sivertsen without the 
cat, as I proposed last Thursday. Very well, 
Nielsen, you know that whatever you do will be 
well done, as long as you are honest in your 
motives and don’t sail under false colors. But 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 135 


here you must be good enough to remember that 
whereas, so long as we were dealing with Miss 
Derry, there was always one way out which I gen- 
erally take into consideration when it’s a ques- 
tion of unattached young men and good-looking 
girls — namely the chance that the masculine may 
take the feminine and run off with it. Here, on 
the other hand, we find the feminine party al- 
ready provided with a lawful spouse, which 
makes the case a good deal more complicated. 
What?” 

“ I haven’t the slightest intention of explain- 
ing myself,” said Nielsen; “ not before we know 
a great deal more than we do now.” 

“ There may be something in that,” said the 
Doctor. “ Especially as we know absolutely 
nothing at present.” 

“Quite so, my dear Doctor; then we are 
agreed.” 

“ We always are,” said the Doctor. 

And he added: 

“ Always when your ideas are reasonable.” 

“ So this is the state of affairs,” said the Doc- 
tor: “The family assembled here, with which 
Providence has brought us in contact in its un- 
fathomable way — leading in this case across 


136 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Borglum Hill — is our trio from Cranbourne 
Grove. Mr. Weston is married to Mrs. Weston. 
He is tall, gaunt, and looks a fool, but we 
can scarcely call him a lunatic. At the worst, he’s 
of rather weak intellect. As to her, I reserve my 
opinion until she is quite well again. But the 
brother, Mr. Throgmorton, is just cut out to be 
an object of suspicion. None of the outward 
signs are wanting. Scowling eyes, eyebrows that 
meet, ears flat against the head. In short, he has 
such a suspicious look that I begin by dismissing 
the idea of suspecting him. 

“ The party has been here four weeks. So they 
arrived here just when they should, and just as 
the London season began. ^ Poste restante^ 
Hjorring,’ simply meant that they knew this 
part, but had not decided on Lonstrup or Lokken 
or Hirtshals. They have been to Lonstrup be- 
fore — that is, Mrs. Weston has been there — as 
Miss Throgmorton, with an elder lady. 

“ They chose Lokken, where none of them had 
been before. Note that as a suspicious circum- 
stance, though it really doesn’t matter a straw, 
and then tell me what you are thinking about.” 

“ I’m thinking about Miss Amy Derry,” said 
Nielsen. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 137 


“ Oh, you’re making comparisons. Which of 
the two comes out best? ” 

“This one — decidedly,” said Nielsen; “she’s 
lovely.” 

“ The very word I used the first time we saw 
her. Poor Miss Derry! You’ll see now, she’ll 
turn out to be the murderess, and these people 
here had nothing to do with the business, in spite 
of Mr. Throgmorton’s decidedly criminal appear- 
ance.” 


CHAPTER III 


The days passed, the sea remained calm and 
friendly, the sun continued to shed its warmth 
over the scene. Visitors went and visitors came. 
Dr. Koldby painted and Nielsen idled on the 
sands, generally with Mrs. Weston. The two 
Englishmen were rather annoyed at this, but they 
sought distraction in sport. The other visitors 
looked askance. Nielsen made no progress. 

And the Doctor chaffed him. 

Miss Derry did not write, and Madam Sivert- 
sen’s reports were brief. She could not under- 
stand why the two gentlemen kept on the ex- 
pensive house in London, but they paid, and she 
got along. The cat was getting fat and sleek. 
Perhaps it was for the cat’s sake they kept the 
house? She liked the animal; they had become 
good friends. 

The Doctor, too, thought it was getting a 
rather expensive amusement, and Nielsen admit- 
ted that it was an unproductive investment; but, 
good heavens, this was a case^ and before three 
months were past they would have it straightened 

138 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 139 


out. Anyhow, they had the house, and they could 
always use it. 

But the worst of it all was, that they made no 
progress. They seemed to have stuck. So the 
Doctor decided to lend a hand and make up to 
the Englishmen, but it did not come to much. He 
went in for sailing, and hired a smack from an 
old fisherman, Silius Hansen by name. The Eng- 
lishmen went out with him once, and then they 
found a fisherman at the north end of the town, 
hired his smack, and went out alone. 

Late one evening the Doctor unburdened his 
heart to Nielsen, over their last cigar. 

“ Look here, Nielsen,” he said, “ we have now 
reached the point where a general forces a de- 
cisive action. I don’t think you have yet suc- 
ceeded in warming Mrs. Weston up to boiling- 
point. Make haste and do so. She is sick to 
death of her husband and she is gone on you, I 
can see that in her. So far, so good; make sure 
of your ally, and then go forward. I assume, of 
course, that she is white as snow.” 

Nielsen shook his head. 

“ I’d rather not go to work in that way. No, 
let us make our attack where the fortress seems 
strongest, that’s the heroic way.” 


140 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“Oho!” laughed the Doctor. “You’re a 
hero.” 

“ Yes, or a knight,” said Nielsen, laughing. 
“ These two gentlemen are unpleasant, but we’ll 
make them lay down their arms, I’m hanged if 
we won’t. I’ll entice them a long way out to sea, 
in Bolle Jens’ Betty, after lobsters on the great 
banks, and then I’ll open fire on them where they 
can’t get away. They won’t be able to break off 
the discussion out there. A twelve hours’ work- 
ing day at sea is a good thing. What do you 
think? ” 

“ There’s something in that,” said the Doctor, 
“ but you ought to take them one at a time. Let 
me hang on to Throgmorton while you go out in 
Bolle Jens’ Betty, taking only Weston with 
you. I don’t suppose you are so quixotically 
chivalrous as not to admit the advisability of at- 
tacking the weakest of the men first? ” 

“ No, in dealing with men the tactics are dif- 
ferent,” said Nielsen. “You are right. You 
take charge of Throgmorton, while I sail out with 
Weston and do the needful.” 

“What? Tell him all?” 

“ Yes.” 

“H’m! Is that wise? Then we shall have 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 141 


to call in the police to keep the fellows in 
check.” 

“That wasn’t my intention,” said Nielsen; 
“ but now I had better give you my whole plan.” 

“ Let’s hear it,” said the Doctor. 

“ Well, when we’re out at sea, I shall say to 
Mr. Weston that if I have approached his wife 
and tried to entertain her, he mustn’t think for a 
moment that I had any idea of interfering with 
his rights. You see, the fellow is fearfully jeal- 
ous, isn’t he? ” 

“ Somewhat,” assented the Doctor. 

“ Good, again. Then — I had no intention of 
slighting him, but his wife interested me. A 
friend of mine, whom he probably knows, as she 
undoubtedly knows him, a Miss Derry ” 

“ Ah ” interrupted the Doctor. 

“ Yes, now I play out Miss Derry. Miss Derry 
has told me that her fiance, Major Johnson, had 
lost his heart to Mrs. Weston and broken his en- 
gagement with her. That of course will only ex- 
cite him a little ” 

“ Supposing it to be true,” put in the Doctor. 

“Whether it is true or not, I will go a step 
further. I will say that Miss Derry will not give 
up her Major, and that I have come to Lokken to 


142 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


find him. That of course will have a disagree- 
able effect on Mr. Weston.” 

“ Ho you think so? ” said the Doctor — he had a 
wicked look in the corner of his eye ; it tickled him 
to see Nielsen going off on a wrong scent — and 
this scent was wrong. 

“May I be allowed an observation?” he 
went on. 

“ Ten,” said Nielsen. 

“We start with the assumption that the Wes- 
ton syndicate have murdered Major Johnson. 
Your companion will therefore be perfectly well 
aware that the Major you and Miss Derry are 
looking for is lying safely in the cellar at Cran- 
bourne Grove, and so is easy to find. Outwardly 
he will pretend not to understand a word of it, 
and inwardly he will laugh at you.” 

A superior smile came over Nielsen’s face. 

“ Thank Heaven I’m not such an idiot as you 
take me for, my dear Doctor,” he said. “ Be quiet 
now and listen, and then believe, O thou of little 
faith. It is quite possible to underestimate the 
intelligence of an ordinary person.” 

“ Go ahead,” said the Doctor, pouring out a 
big glass of whisky for Nielsen. The Doctor 
himself drank soda water. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 143 


Nielsen continued. 

“We are out in the boat on the big bank, then, 
and, as you so pertinently remarked, the English- 
man sits inwardly grinning at me. Then I say: 
‘ Mr. Weston — it’s no use your trying to play 
with me. Miss Derry is in earnest. We have 
taken your house. No. 48 Cranbourne Grove, you 
understand, and ’ ” 

The Doctor could not resist an interruption. 
“ Down in the cellar we found ” 

“ May I call you an idiot without making you 
angry, my dear Doctor? ” 

“You may call me a fool, if you like; for I 
can’t be more stupid than you are.” 

“ Then I’ll say idiot. Do you really think I 
will tell Weston that? Good Lord! hasn’t our 
long acquaintanceship given you a higher opin- 
ion of me? I’m sorry for you, for I’m hanged if 
the fault is on my side.” 

“ Nielsen,” said the Doctor, “ it’s only a step 
from too much cleverness to idiocy, and now, 
upon my word, you’re too clever.” 

“ Can you be quiet. Doctor, for a couple of 
minutes? ” 

The Doctor was quiet. 

“ I shall say to my Englishman, out there on 


144 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


the blue water, that if he won’t make a clean 
breast of it, I shall go back to London, and if I 
have to tear up the floor in every single room at 
48 Cranbourne Grove, I’ll do it, for I mil have 
the Major, dead or alive. Now what do you 
say?” 

The Doctor bowed deeply — and drank in 
silence. 

“ Nielsen,” said he, “ that’s what you have to 
do. It’s good.” 

They were silent for a few moments — Nielsen 
enjoying his triumph, the Doctor with a finger 
on his nose. 

He was not going to be cut out by Nielsen. 

“ What next? ” he asked. 

Nielsen smiled. 

“It is very difficult to foresee what effect a 
dose of that description will have on the victim. 
Let us try to form a hypothesis.” 

“ Stop a bit,” said the Doctor, with a mischiev- 
ous laugh. “ One should never allow one’s self to 
be put down. You said that so deuced smartly 
that I hadn’t an answer ready. Now I have. 
You talk about hypotheses. But you’re over head 
and ears in hypotheses already. You start with 
the assumption that you can use Miss Derry 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 145 


as a stalking-horse. We know what Miss Derry 
has said, but we know, too, that this lady, to say 
the least of it, is a little reckless in her dealings 
with the truth. So that if Miss Derry herself 
has the Major’s death on her conscience, if she 
killed him from jealousy and hid him away in 
lime, — in short, if she is the murderess, then Mr. 
Weston will be right in looking down upon you 
from the whole moral height of a thwart of the 
Betty ^ and you will be transformed from an 
accuser into an accomplice.” 

“ You forget that on that assumption Mr. 
Weston would not know what there was lying in 
the cellar at Cranbourne Grove, and in that case 
he may look upon me as an idiot, if he likes. Then 
our mission here would be at an end.” 

The Doctor thought over that. 

“ There’s something in it. Well, in that case 
we fall back on Miss Derry, and ought to be able 
to get valuable information from the English- 
men here. I’ll admit that. But now supposing 
Mr. Weston is one of the murderers, then that 
wQuld be ” 

“ The hypothesis,” said Nielsen. ‘‘ Exactly. 
Mr. Weston’s first thought will be to take refuge 
in Throgmorton. But there will be the whole 


146 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


length of the bay between them. In parenthesis, 
I take off my hat to your plan of isolating them, 
it is excellent. So then, Mr. Throgmorton will 
not be on hand, we are miles from shore, and I 
stick to my game. Mr. Weston will get angry 
and say a whole lot of things which we can’t 
guess, but which I shall carefully make note of. 
And in the meantime you will be saying some- 
thing of the same kind to Mr. Throgmorton — 
but not that about tearing up the floor, that’s too 
good to be said twice over. On our return the 
two gentlemen will make plans for clearing 
out ” 

“ Probably,” said the Doctor. “We shall have 
spoiled their summer holiday.” 

“ Yes, I think so. They won’t go without her. 
We get to know what she knows, or rather, how 
much she knows, and according to that we make 
our plans. No doubt she knows nothing, or at 
any rate not much. She won’t let herself be 
dragged off by these two criminals; we shall iso- 
late them, and — well, in fact, we shall hold our 
inquiry and then decide ! ” 

“ It sounds all right,” said the Doctor; “ but it 
will hardly come off in practice.” 

“ That, my dear Doctor, is because it rests upon 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 147 


hypotheses. Now, I’m tired of waiting. Let it 
turn out as it may; the time has come for us to 
act.” 

“ Yes, you’re right there,” said the Doctor, fin- 
ishing his soda water. 

The council was adjourned. 


CHAPTER IV 


Bolle Jens was a carpenter and fisherman, a 
tall, lanky fellow with a regular seaman’s face 
and a little smile at the corner of his mouth ; dry 
and witty, and a glutton for work. “ He knows 
all about fishing, does Bolle Jens,” they said at 
Lokken, and it was true. Bolle Jens was not 
afraid of any kind of weather; his sea-boat 
Betty was the smartest sailer in the place; he 
caught more haddock than anyone else in winter, 
and in summer his lobster-pots on the Great 
Bank were full. 

Bolle Jens stood on the beach, getting the 
Betty ready. The Betty was built in Nor- 
way, a great, broad-bowed sea-boat, painted gray 
below and white above, almost the only sailing 
boat now, since motors had carried all before 
them at Lokken. Bolle Jens still stuck to sails. 
He wanted to pay cash for his motor, if he got 
one, and there was still a whole summer’s fishing 
to be done before he had the money. 

But it would come. 

“ Petersen,” said Nielsen — Petersen was an- 


148 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 149 


other name of Bolle Jens — ‘‘ will you take me and 
another man out to-morrow, if it’s good 
: weather? ” 

“ Right you are,” said Bolle Jens. “ Is it the 
[painter?” 

I “No, it’s one of the Englishmen.” 

I “ All right,” said Bolle Jens. “ We’ll sail at 
two o’clock, just at daybreak. The weather’s 
good enough, and the glass is steady. You come 
at two.” 

That settled one side of the business. 

After lunch Nielsen proposed the trip to Mr. 
['Weston. 

I The Englishman hesitated and called in his 
companion. 

Throgmorton did not like Nielsen ; he evidently 
disliked strangers altogether. He was also in a 
bad temper; probably on account of a dispute 
with his sister. That happened rather frequently, 
people said; and there were not wanting some 
who declared that Nielson was the cause of these 
disputes. 

Throgmorton was disagreeable. 

“ Sir,” he said, “ accident has thrown us to- 
gether. You rendered my sister a service which 
anybody else might have rendered her. You make 


150 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


that a pretext for forcing your society upon her. 
You have been the cause of gossip about her. 
You have endangered her reputation. Yes, you 
have. I don’t care a damn about you, but if it’s 
your intention to thrust yourself on my brother- 
in-law as well — ^perhaps to make good what you 
have done wrong in the other direction — then let 
me tell you — as my brother-in-law is a very civil- 
spoken man — that we only ask you to mind your 
own business and leave us in peace. I am sick 
of this. You can go to the devil.” 

This was not very polite, and Nielsen flushed 
to the roots of his hair. But he thought of his 
plans and answered courteously. 

“ I’m sure, Mr. Throgmorton, you can’t say 
that I have forced my society on anybody. I 
have talked to Mrs. Weston, for whom I have 
the greatest respect, because I thought I could 
see that she liked me to do so. I may have been 
mistaken. I don’t wish to be insulted by you and 
therefore I conclude this conversation; but I want 
to resume it at another time, and in earnest. It 
goes without saying that I shall speak to Mrs. 
Weston about it, and if anyone in the place has 
made any insinuations, perhaps I may ask for 
his name. In an aff* air of that kind I am not to 
be trifled with.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 151 


Throgmorton snarled. 

“ I only want you to leave us in peace. My 
sister is free to act as she chooses. Her husband 
will know how to defend his honor! ” 

“ I should have said so, too,” said Nielsen 
peaceably. “ But it is rather your conduct that 
gives rise to a contrary view. It is precisely for 
the reasons you bring forward that I should be 
glad to spend a day with Mr. Weston, and I am 
convinced that it would lead us more pleasantly 
and quickly to a satisfactory result than your 
rudeness. For you were rude.” 

The two Englishmen consulted. 

Then Throgmorton said: 

“ I find no reason to alter my expressions. I 
am frank with you; I don’t like you, and I beg 
you to act accordingly.” 

Nielsen looked at Weston. 

“ I agree with my brother-in-law,” said the 
latter. “If I thought you dared to approach 
Mrs. Weston with any such design as he alluded 
to, I should take it differently. I trust Mrs. 
Weston in everything. But I do not desire your 
acquaintance, and I ask you to mind your own 
business.” 

With these words Mr. Weston turned his back 
on Nielsen and slouched away. 


152 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Throgmorton followed. 

The Doctor was sitting among the sand-dunes, 
painting, when Nielsen slowly made his way to 
him across the sand. 

“ Well?” he asked. 

“ That little scheme went to pot,” said Nielsen. 
“ The two louts were as rude as bears.” And he 
told all that had happened. 

“ So the scheme has gone to pot,” said the Doc- 
tor; “but I expect you’re in just the humor to 
take these two fellows by the scruff of the neck, 
eh?” 

“ I can’t say their behavior has made me feel 
any gentler,” said Nielsen; “but there’s some- 
thing in it, after all. They have a sort of right to 
be left in peace. We must change our tactics. 
Let us think a little about what we have to do. 
There’s no hurry. Anyhow, to-morrow’s trip 
won’t come to anything. And I’ll just go down 
and countermand the boat.” 

“ Do that,” said the Doctor, and went on with 
his painting. 

Nielsen went down to the beach, where he 
found Bolle Jens still busy with the Betty. 

“ I shan’t be able to go to-morrow, after all,” 
he said. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 153 


“ That’s all right,” said Jens. “ The two Eng- 
lishmen have been talking to me about the same 
thing. They offered me a good bit extra for the 
boat. I wouldn’t take it, because I had promised 
you. Now I’ll take the Englishmen’s money; 
it’ll be a good thing to get it into Danish hands, 
eh?” 

So that was settled. 

But when the Doctor and Nielsen were talking 
together later on, Koldby smiled and asked Niel- 
sen if he wouldn’t now overcome his chivalrous 
prejudices and make up his mind to attack where 
the stronghold was weakest. 

Nielsen thought for a moment. 

“ My dear fellow,” said the Doctor, “ you’ll 
be forced to. And think of what an opportunity 
you’ll have; when the two louts are out at sea, 
plotting evil, you’ll perhaps be able to clear up 
the whole thing with her. I wouldn’t miss such 
an opportunity. Good heavens, they are two men 
— but she is a woman, and you, my boy, are a 
cunning dog.” 

Nielsen would not answer, but that evening 
he took counsel with himself. 

The Doctor left him alone. 


CHAPTER V 


It was past noon, and the wind was getting up, 
with scuds of rain. Nielsen stood at the door of 
the hotel and nodded to the Doctor, who was com- 
ing out of his room. 

“ Now they’ve hoisted two balls,” said Nielsen, 
“ It’s going to be serious. They are all out at 
sea, and the wind’s northwest. We shall see the 
lifeboat to-day.” 

The Doctor rubbed his hands. “We must go 
up the hill,” said he. “ What luck that the two 
Englishmen were so uncivil yesterday. Other- 
wise you’d be sitting out in the bay now, tossing 
in Bolle Jens’ boat. It’s best to have solid earth 
under your feet, what? ” 

“ I hope it will be all right,” said Nielsen, shak- 
ing his head. “ Fourteen motor-boats are out, 
and four smacks, besides Bolle Jens’ Betty under 
sail. They are all men with families.” 

“ Yes — and our two Englishmen. If anything 
should happen to Throgmorton and Weston, we 
should only have the two Amys to fall back upon. 

154 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 155 


And then I’m afraid we should never get our 
mystery cleared up. The whole thing may slip 
away from us now.” 

‘‘Are you really thinking of that, Doctor? 
Come on, it’s pouring, and the wind has got hold 
of these rowans as though it would uproot them. 
We must get on to the hill.” 

They went out into the market-place. At 
every door they saw the inmates looking out. The 
visitors from the hotel crept forward against the 
gale, wrapped in waterproofs and shawls, and 
down the street there was a clattering and rat- 
tling — it was the carter’s men riding the horses 
home in case they should be wanted to haul out 
the lifeboat. 

“ There goes the third ball aloft,” said the Doc- 
tor, and over the low roofs they could see the 
three balls swinging in the wind from the gaff of 
the signal-mast. 

They fought their way uphill through the sand, 
which cut them in the face and flew across the 
rising ground and roofs. Up by the signal sta- 
tion people stood huddled together, bending their 
heads against the wind, women and children, 
looking out over the bay. 

All the boats were out. The sea had got up. 


156 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


and the foam was flying along the beach, while 
the water gradually gained its way among wheel- 
barrows and herring-boxes. Those who had 
stayed at home went down and saved what they 
could. But they were mostly old people and chil- 
dren. The men were all at sea. 

Out on the shoals, where the seas were break- 
ing, they could now see the last boats, one — two — 
three — four. 

They were motor-boats, tossing like nutshells 
in the heavy seas. 

“ The lifeboat’s going out,” they cried on the 
hill ; but her crew was away at sea. The old men 
pulled on their sea-boots and oilskins. The re- 
serve crew was at home, and now some of the 
boats were coming to shore down below. The 
gale increased; the wind howled in masts, rig- 
ging, and ropes, and the sea thundered on the 
beach. 

“ We must go down,” said Nielsen. 

The sand was dri fating like snow over the slopes 
and the two men turned their backs to the blast. 
They reached the shore. Four of the boats were 
in, and five more were by the nearest shoal. They 
had an easier job then. The motors hissed and 
rattled ; the boats turned their sides and ran along 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 157 


the troughs of the waves, then steered sharply 
and rode over the seas into smooth water. 

Boat after boat appeared from outside. 

They rose among the waves, turned like her- 
rings and shot in. A short shock, a thump on the 
bottom, and a hiss of the engine. Then they 
stopped, and all hands got over the side. Slowly, 
steadily, and surely, as in fair weather, their ac- 
customed backs carried the boats up the beach. 
Everyone lent a hand, women, children, and vis- 
itors. It was a case of getting it done quickly. 

Now all the motors are in, and the smacks be- 
gin to show up over the shoals. They tossed like 
corks among the breakers, with their fluttering 
sails, like little black bags on the short masts, 
right down in the water. 

Then into the midst of the waves, over the last 
sandbank, and in to land. 

Now they are all in. All except Bolle Jens. 
‘"All except Bolle Jens,” the word went from 
mouth to mouth along the beach. But Bolle 
Jens was not in sight. 

“We must go up on to the hill again,” said 
Nielsen. “ That boat’s missing, and it’s our boat. 
They are out there on the Great Bank, and it 
took them longer to reach it than the others. 


158 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

Silius Hansen says his son was within hail of 
them until the wind got up. They were head- 
ing for the open sea.” 

“ Perhaps they’re going to make the same trip 
as Lars Jensen’s crew last year — over to Nor- 
way. What do you think, Silius?” asked the 
Doctor. 

Silius shook his head. “ In this weather? No, 
Bolle Jens is a dare-devil sort of chap, but he 
won’t risk that. Isn’t that ? ” 

It was not the boat. 

The rain swept along the foam on the beach, 
and lashed the breaking waves; but there was 
nothing to be seen. 

They ascended the hill again. 

Down in the gap the lifeboat had stuck fast. 
Eight sweating, steaming horses were dragging 
at the harness and ropes, while the drivers 
shouted and plied their whips. The wheels were 
buried in the sand. Then one of the ropes of the 
traces broke with a jerk, and all hands rushed like 
a swarm of ants to mend the trace. They all put 
their backs into it. The heavy trolley shook and 
the boat heeled over in its cradle. Then it went 
up through the sand-drifts and down on to the 
level road through the gap, with a creaking of 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 159 


poles and harness, while the tackle rolled about 
in the boat. The stream of people from the hill 
followed through the dunes, through the drifting 
sand, down to the boats. 

Mrs. Weston went up to Nielsen. 

“ Is there any danger? ” she asked. 

Nielsen gave her a serious look. 

“ It is always dangerous to land on this coast 
when the sea is running as it is now. And the 
boat is not in sight. But we have hopes.” 

“ Is the lifeboat going out? ” she asked. Her 
voice sounded quite calm and collected. 

The Doctor came up. 

“ It won’t go out until there is something for it 
to do, and if it waits much longer, it won’t go 
out at all.” 

“ Why?” she asked. 

“ Because it won’t be able to. The sea is get- 
ting up so that it will be a difficult thing for the 
boat to hold its own over the second shoal.” 

Mrs. Weston said nothing. 

“ It was unfortunate that they chose to-day to 
go out,” said the Doctor. “ There was some 
breeze this morning.” 

“ But Mr. Nielsen wanted to go, too,” said 
Mrs. Weston. 


160 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


The Doctor nodded. 

Down on the beach they were shoving the life- 
boat to the water’s edge, while the horses took 
away the trolley, as artillery horses go off with 
the limber when the gun comes into action. 

“There’s a boat!” shouted Nielsen, pointing 
over the bay. 

“ It’s they ” 

The Doctor shook his head. 

“ No, it’s too big. That’s a Lonstrup cutter, 
going north. There’s another of them. They are 
decked boats, they’ll be all right. Shall we go 
down to the boats? ” 

Mrs. Weston wrapped her mackintosh closely 
about her and gave another turn to the shawl 
round her neck. Nielsen looked at her. He 
seemed to know that shawl. It was of the same 
pattern as the shawl he had found in the cellar. 
He went up to her. 

“ Are you afraid? ” he asked. 

“ She smiled. “ Afraid? why, I’m on dry 
land.” 

“ I mean, for the two out there.” 

Her face darkened. She said nothing. 

“ Let us go,” said the Doctor. “ They’re 
pointing out at something from the beach. I 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 161 


can’t see anything, but the fishermen have better 
eyes than we.” 

A crowd had gathered round the lifeboat. 
There was only one missing, Bolle Jens’ 
Betty, the only sailing-boat in the place. The 
visitors crept into shelter behind the great red 
lifeboat; they spoke in low, solemn voices to the 
fishermen who stood up in the boat in their stiff, 
wet oilskins. Old Larsen, the captain, stood look- 
ing out over the sea with his long telescope. 

“ The two Englishmen,” went the hushed whis- 
per among the crowd, and all turned towards 
Mrs. Weston as she approached, accompanied by 
the two gentlemen. 

The local doctor came up to his patient, bow- 
ing. Dr. Madsen was a pleasant man, who had 
sailed with the Thingvalla boats and talked Eng- 
lish pretty well. 

“ Bolle Jens is the most experienced fisherman 
in the place,” he said. “ He has been in worse 
things than this. There is no ground for uneasi- 
ness. You’ll see, it will be all right.” 

“ I am not at all uneasy,” replied Mrs. Weston. 

Nielsen looked at her. No, she was not at all 
uneasy, no more than if the two men had nothing 
to do with her. 


162 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ Doctor,’’ whispered Dr. Madsen to Koldby. 
“ These Englishwomen are strange creatures. 
Look at her, she doesn’t change a feature, as cool 
as a cucumber — now she’s smiling at your friend 
there. They have nerves of steel, these ladies of 
the smoky island.” 

Dr. Koldby shrugged his shoulders. “ Per- 
haps she doesn’t care what happens.” 

“ To her husband and her brother? ” 

“ Yes, why not? ” 

“Aren’t you at all afraid?” asked Nielsen. 
He had just caught the Doctor’s words to 
Madsen. 

Mrs. Weston looked at him sharply. 

“ What would be the use ? ” she said. 

Nielsen thought she almost smiled as she said it. 

“ Look at the two women there,” said Nielsen 
sternly. “ They are the wives of Niels Hansen 
and Jens Petersen. All their hope is out there — 
they are staring out to sea.” 

Mrs. Weston interrupted him. 

“ So am I, but what good does it do? If they 
are to stay there, they will stay there. I wish 
they would put that boat into the water. It’s no 
use here.” 

There was a murmur among the crowd, and 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 163 


arms were stretched out towards something out- 
side. 

“ It’s the boat,” said Nielsen shortly. 

It was the boat. 

The crowd parted and the lifeboat’s crew put 
their shoulders to the great red hull. Slowly it 
grated its way down over the sand. 

Then it floated, the tall figures in their yellow 
oilskins vaulted in over the gunwale, and old 
Larsen stood aft in his heavy black cloak. The 
boat gave a roll in the breakers, and they got the 
oars out. There was a creaking of wood and a 
clanking of the metal rowlocks, and then the boat 
shot forward into the waves. They broke over 
her and vanished in foam, but she rose again. 

Then they heaved out the sack aft, and towed 
it after the boat to keep her steady in the water. 
Between the two nearest sandbanks she went 
forward smoothly, then her stem met the break- 
ers and the boat rose straight out of the water 
and slowly sank again in the trough of the waves. 

Those on shore had their eyes fixed on the long 
red boat, which was now tossing broadside-on, as 
though trying to find a diagonal path among the 
waves. 

The Betty came full in view, out beyond the 


164 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


last shoal. She was under foresail only. The 
rain was beating down, obscuring everything, and 
out of the uniform gray the two tossing shadows 
appeared, the Betty before the wind, heading for 
land with her broad bows, and the lifeboat, which 
had now changed her course, making her way 
towards the other boat over the second shoal. 

When the sea got under her, she showed her 
whole red bow with the plug-holes, seemed to col- 
lect herself and made a bound right into the next 
wave, then turned and tried to slip into a valley 
between the seas. Now she was over the second 
shoal. The Betty was setting her mainsail. 

Old Silius shook his head. 

“ What’s the matter? ” asked Koldby. 

Silius answered: 

“ You’ll see, Bolle Jens won’t have the life- 
boat, he’ll try to get to land without help. It’s 
the way with the youngsters, and I shouldn’t 
wonder if the two Englishmen didn’t back him 
up. They’re tough customers, the English.” 

Now the lifeboat was nearing the third shoal, 
but the Betty heaved her white hull out of the 
waves and was in smooth water. 

“ He cleared that,” said Silius, “ but he’s got 
the worst to come.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 165 


The lifeboat was shortening the distance be- 
tween her and the fisherman. 

“ He’s mad if he tries to land in this weather,” 
said Koldby. “ Why the devil doesn’t he take the 
boat?” 

“ He’s got a good catch on board, you see,” 
said Silius ; “ and that’s lost if he has to leave the 
boat. You see, his boat is insured, but not the 
catch, and if they leave the boat, the storm will 
take her ashore somewhere north of the hill, and 
the catch will be washed overboard. He may 
have a hundred crowns’ worth of lobsters, judg- 
ing by what the others have caught. Bolle Jens 
won’t let that go.” 

The fisherman’s wife came up to Silius. 

“Don’t you think Jens will go in the life- 
boat? ” she asked. 

“ It would be like him not to,” answered the 
old man. 

“ God have mercy on him! ” she whispered. 

“As far as that goes, Jens is good enough. 
But we mustn’t tempt Providence.” 

The woman dried her eyes with her hand. “ It 
was a storm just like this when Jens Molle was 
lost,” she said in a low voice. 

“ It was so,” was the quiet answer. 


166 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


‘‘ It looks now as if they had some sense, after 
all,” said the Doctor. “ They have taken a rope 
from the lifeboat.” 

The two boats lay tossing in the waves. It was 
smoother water between the shoals. The Betty^s 
sail was hauled down, and the mast was swaying 
from one point of the horizon to the other among 
the white crests. Now they were hauling the 
fishing-boat alongside the lifeboat. 

The seas on the second shoal rose between the 
boat and the land so that those on shore could 
not see what was happening. The boats sepa- 
rated. 

The lifeboat turned her bow to the land; on 
the second shoal they could see right under her 
as she rose over the crest of a sea. 

“Jesus Christ!” cried the fisherman’s wife, 
“ now Jens is setting sail again.” 

The Betty's canvas went up. So Jens was 
going to tempt Providence. 

“ Your friends are in the lifeboat,” said Niel- 
sen to Mrs. Weston. 

“ They must be,” she said. 

But her face was unmoved. 

There were several fathoms now between the 
lifeboat and the Betty; above the breakers they 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 167 


could see the fishing-boat luffing to find a way 
among the seas. The lifeboat shot in over the 
last shoal. 

Suddenly there was a shrill scream from the 
beach. The Betty rose among the breakers on 
the shoal, stood quivering in a shower of foam, 
and then a contrary wave took her on the other 
side and turned her clean over, so that her green 
bottom shone in the gray water. 

There was a long cry from everyone on the 
shore. 

The red boat turned and plunged into the 
waves again. The rain was driving along the 
foam. Then there was another glimpse of the 
green hull out yonder. 

Astride on the keel of the capsized boat sat two 
figures, hanging on for their lives, while the foam 
swept over them. The boat sank down between 
the waves, and like a shark the red lifeboat darted 
forward towards them. 

“ They’ll do it,” said Silius. “ It’s Jens and 
Niels; now they’ll reach them.” 

The lifeboat slipped up to the side of the cap- 
sized boat, and a ringing shout proclaimed that 
they had reached them. 

Then the boat rose in the air again. 


168 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“Why don’t they come to shore?” asked the 
Doctor. 

“ I don’t know,” whispered Silius. 

The lifeboat was not coming to shore. 

A hushed whisper ran along the beach. 

“ There were five in the boat,” said Silius. 
“ Niels Hansen’s son and the two Englishmen, 
with Niels and Jens. There’s one or two of them 
left out there, perhaps three — the Lord have 
mercy on them! The current has carried them 
ten fathoms north already. They’re lost!” 

Minutes passed like hours, and the broad red 
boat came in over the shoals and grounded with 
a roar on the beach. 

Niels Hansen’s wife knelt on the shore, and 
the crowd pressed round the boat with hurried 
questions. 

Nielsen followed Mrs. Weston closely; she had 
not said a word, but she saw what had happened. 

Now the men were climbing out of the boat. 

Nielsen saw the tall, lanky Englishman swing 
himself over the bow of the boat without wait- 
ing for the rest; he threw a glance at the crowd 
and hurried towards Mrs. Weston. 

“ It was John,” was all he said. 

Nielsen saw her bosom heave and sink. Then, 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 169 


without saying a word, she walked up the beach 
by Weston’s side. 

But among the crowd the news passed from 
man to man : 

“ One of the Englishmen was left out yonder.” 


CHAPTER VI 


A STRANGELY Solemn silence hung over the 
hotel when the visitors assembled for the evening 
meal. They had been talking about the drowned 
Englishman, had said all they had to say, had 
forgotten and forgiven what they had against 
him, in their respect for his courage. Whatever 
else he might have been, he was a plucky fellow. 
Now he lay out yonder; perhaps the sea would 
keep him; or the waves would wash him ashore 
somewhere along the coast to the north. 

The ladies shuddered. 

Mrs. Weston did not come to supper. Mr. 
Weston, however, took his usual place by the side 
of Nielsen. He spoke in a subdued voice, as was 
fitting. He did not seem sorry; Nielsen under- 
stood that. He could understand that the bond 
that had kept these two together was not friend- 
ship — and he knew more than the others. That 
it was Throgmorton who had been the leader all 
through Nielsen had no doubt. His death made 
the task lighter. So long as Throgmorton was 
alive, he had to be careful; that man shrank from 


170 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 171 


nothing. Now he lay out yonder in his watery 
grave. 

Now the time was come. 

Weston told his story. The gale had caught 
them while they were cruising on the Great Bank. 
Capricious and sudden, as it comes in summer 
time on the Skagerrack; and Bolle Jens had 
steered for home. The sea got higher, but they 
made their way steadily. Weston had no idea 
there was any danger. When they saw the signal 
on the hill the skipper asked if they would go in 
the lifeboat. 

Throgmorton said they would do as Jens 
wished. 

So they decided to do without the lifeboat; 
there were two hundred pounds of lobsters in the 
hold. 

They were worth at the current price about 
eighteenpence a pound, and Jens thought that 
was too much to throw away. But when they 
came to the third shoal he had his doubts all the 
same, and made a signal to the lifeboat. Wes- 
ton and Niels Hansen’s son went in the lifeboat. 
Niels didn’t want the youngster to be lost as well 
as himself, if they came to grief. 

Throgmorton would not go. 


172 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

So they let him stay, and there he stayed. 

They thought he must have been caught by a 
rope or some of the tackle and lay under the boat. 
She had gone north, keel upwards, and would 
probably be driven ashore near Lyngby . W eston 
was going up there that same evening, with some 
fishermen, to look for the body. 

Nielsen offered to go with him, but the Eng- 
lishman did not seem to want him. 

“ Throgmorton is dead,” said he. “ What has 
to be done, I can do alone.” 

And Mrs. Weston? ” asked Nielsen. 

“ She has retired,” answered Weston. “ This 
has been a shock to her.” 

That was the end of their conversation that 
evening. 

The wind dropped at sunset, and it was quite a 
fine evening. Nielsen and the Doctor went down 
to the beach and watched the sun set. The sea 
was still surging and roaring outside, but the 
wave beats were long and slackening, like the end 
of a horse’s gallop, before it falls into a walk. 
There were many people on the shore, and they 
were all making for the northward. They in- 
voluntarily turned their eyes to the water’s edge, 
looking for the dead Englishman. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 173 

The custom-house officer had driven north with 
Weston and the constable from Bronderslev. 
This official had been summoned by telephone. 
He did not speak English, but Jens acted as in- 
terpreter. Nielsen and the Doctor walked north- 
ward over Fureby Beck. 

“ Now we have reached the third stage, Doc- 
tor,” said Nielsen. “ Now we shall have to set 
to work. I suppose they will leave here, and 
then ? ” 

The Doctor nodded. “ That’s possible. Throg- 
morton was the leader, we were clear enough 
about that. Mr. Weston and his wife will be 
easier to tackle. Probably they are only indi- 
rectly accessory — according to our hypothesis. 
Miss Derry is the chief mourner. I am sorry for 
her. This would be a text for an edifying ser- 
mon if the same misfortune did not often happen 
to honest fathers of families in the exercise of 
their daily work. That’s a thing that always in- 
terferes with the theory of natural justice, and 
you’ll have to give up that part of your pro- 
gramme, Nielsen. But to return to Cranbourne 
Grove : Ma j or J ohnson is avenged. What do you 
think of doing now? ” 

Nielsen drew himself up. 


174 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ First of all, I shall tell Weston that we know 
all; the murderer is dead, the other two suffered 
hy his presence, as we have noticed long ago. 
The shadow of his crime still hangs over their 
lives. Let us clear it all up and set them free 
again.” 

“ You’re in too much of a hurry, Nielsen,” said 
the Doctor, stopping in his walk. 

The sun was now below the horizon; the two 
men were standing beneath the cliffs of Fureby; 
all the other visitors had turned back, and there 
was no one else in sight. 

“We have not made any mistake,” said 
Nielsen. “We cannot have made any mistake 
here.” 

The Doctor turned towards the sea; a heavy 
swell was rolling in after the storm. 

Suddenly he seized Nielsen’s arm. 

“ There,” he said, “ look there! ” 

Nielsen stared at the sea. Close to their feet 
the breakers had just washed ashore the body of 
the drowned Englishman. Helplessly confined 
in its long brown waterproof, with its face down- 
wards in the sand, the body was slowly heaved up 
on the beach. 

“ If you and I were not two hardened free- 


I THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 175 

I thinkers,” said the Doctor, “ we should fold our 
j hands and say it was the will of God. It is all 
I quite natural; he had to come ashore. He has 
come ashore to us.” 

The body was lying at the water’s edge, and 
i the back- wash of the wave caught the mackintosh, 

I as though it were trying to draw the body back 
i again. But it lay high and dry when the wave 
i retreated. 

I Nielsen stood thoughtful and irresolute. 

The Doctor knelt down and turned the body 
over, so that it lay on its back. The face was 
calm and not swollen. Throgmorton looked like 
a man asleep. The eyes were half-open and the 
beard was full of foam. Quickly the Doctor 
opened the mackintosh, and before Nielsen 
grasped what he wanted he had drawn a little 
brown pocket-book from the inner pocket of the 
dead man. 

“What are you about. Doctor?” asked Niel- 
sen involuntarily. 

“ I want to see if his papers are in order,” said 
! the Doctor. 

It was still twilight ; light enough to read. The 
Doctor emptied the pocket-book. There were 
several bank-notes and a few papers. 


176 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

Nielsen shook his head. 

“ This won’t do, Doctor. Up to now we have 
avoided any conflict with the police ; this is 
illegal.” 

The Doctor looked up. 

“ Let it be. He can keep the money. I’m 
going to look at the papers. It wasn’t for nothing 
that the fellow came ashore just where we were.” 

Nielsen shook his head. 

The Doctor unfolded the papers, which had 
stuck together. The mackintosh and the tightly- 
buttoned jacket had contributed to preserve them, 
and the little pocket-book had done the rest. The 
writing was smeared but not illegible. 

The Doctor jumped to his feet. 

“ Nielsen,” said he, “ here are four letters ad- 
dressed to Throgmorton and three addressed to 
Charles Weston, Esq. What was this man doing 
with Weston’s letters in his pocket-book? I shall 
keep these letters, you understand. I shall do 
more. I’ll search the corpse. He must turn out 
his pockets, now we’ve got him.” 

Nielsen involuntarily looked round. They 
were alone on the beach. 

The Doctor searched carefully and quietly. 
There were no more papers on the corpse. Then 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 177 

the Doctor took the watch from its pocket and 
opened it. 

“Nielsen,” said he, “look here! Inside the 
case there’s the name Charles Weston, 1885. 
Throgmorton goes about with papers addressed 
to Weston, and his watch has Weston’s name en- 
graved in it. If it had been Johnson’s, you and 

I would have understood it. But Weston . 

Mr. Weston is driving along the coast, looking 
out for the body; he has promised a reward to 
anyone who finds it. Now, I’m going to keep 
these articles, you understand. We shall be doing 
Mr. Weston a service thereby, and I am much 
mistaken if these things do not turn out to be 
the key to the riddle. I am also inclined to think 
we shall get Mr. Weston to talk.” 

Nielsen buttoned up his coat nervously. 

“ And what then? ” 

“ Over in London we left a corpse to take care 
of itself, Nielsen. We’ll do the same here. Let 
it lie there quite quietly, and go home. You’ll 
see, it’ll be one of the natives that finds it. 
Should Mr. Weston and the police find it, he will 
scarcely call their attention to the fact that any- 
thing is missing. I don’t fancy Mr. Weston is 
particularly anxious for police investigations. 


178 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

He asked me something this afternoon about 
what the authorities would do. It wasn’t because 
he wanted the authorities set in motion. Rather 
the contrary. Now we’ll turn the corpse over, as 
it lay before.- Come along.” 

So they went homewards, and the tide retreated 
from the dead Englishman, who lay quiet, with 
his face in the sand, among the little shells of the 
beach. It was quiet in the hotel that evening. 
The piano was silent, the visitors sat in little 
groups and spoke in hushed tones. In the Doc- 
tor’s room sat Nielsen and Koldby with lighted 
cigars, reading the letters they had found. 

“We must put them in regular order,” said 
the Doctor, “ and try to make them out.” 

Four of them were business letters from Syd- 
ney Armstrong. 

The first of these was dated London, April 25, 
and contained a brief intimation that Major 
Johnson had duly taken possession of the house 
in Cranbourne Grove. 

The second was dated April 28, and acknowl- 
edged receipt of Mr. Throgmorton’s letter from 
Southampton, with the intimation that Mr. Arm- 
strong was willing to find a tenant for Major 
Johnson’s house. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 179 

The third letter accompanied a receipt for fees 
paid, and stated that the Major’s letters would be 
sent, as requested, to Hjorring, poste restante. 
The date was stained and illegible. 

The fourth letter contained a question, as to 
whether Mr. Armstrong might let the house 
again when the three months had expired, and an 
intimation that the new tenant was willing to 
take the house for six months. 

The last paragraph was the most interesting; 
it ran as follows: 

“As far as Miss Derry is concerned, I may 
state that this young lady has not been to see me 
since my telegram of May 4. It seemed that she 
has calmed down and given up her search for the 
Major. As far as I know, there has been nothing 
about his journey in the papers; it appears that 
his trip to Burma is believed in. I hope the 
Major has received the two letters I sent him. 
The two gentlemen at Cranbourne Grove have 
not sent on any letters for the Major, and it is 
probable that none have come. I hope also that 
the Major received the check I sent him the 
other day. Until the middle of July there will 
be no more money to send.” 

The date was illegible. 


180 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


These four letters were addressed to Mr. 
Throgmorton. 

The three letters to Mr. Weston were more 
damaged by sea-water. The paper was not so 
good, and it cost the two inquirers much trouble 
to read them. Two of them seemed without in- 
terest; they were dated the year before and 
treated of money matters. The writer, Charles 
Smith, claimed a sum of £100 from Mr. Weston 
on account of a loan, and threatened legal pro- 
ceedings. There was nothing in the letters which 
could explain how they found their way into Mr. 
Throgmorton’s pocket-book. 

The third letter was interesting. Much of it 
was illegible, but what could be made out was of 
such importance that Dr. Koldby at once made 
a copy of it: 

“ Dear Sir — Although I do not know you 
personally, I am obliged to write to you. You 
are aware that for some time . . . (illegible) to 
Major Johnson. You know the Major and his 
unfortunate weakness for gambling. Also his 
weakness . . . (illegible) be unknown to you. 
Mrs. Weston is just as unknown to me as your- 
self, but a mutual friend has told me that in any 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 181 


case you have been a gentleman. After what 
happened last October, I have the right to say 
have been. It is an unusual thing for a girl to 
write to a man about his wife — (here there were 
five lines illegible) ... I cannot threaten, my 
father will not help me, as you know. After 
what has happened I am forced to believe that 
you and . . . (illegible) will take advantage 
of this. I offer to ransom James — to ransom him 
with money, I say. I leave you to settle the price, 
I shall pay what I can. Look upon it as a piece 
of business; we can meet in Clarendon Road, at 
the house of a friend of mine. Perhaps you are 
mistaken if you suppose I am quite defenceless 
and . . . (illegible) ... I have. 

“ I remain, ready to treat with you, 

“A. Derry. 

“ To Charles Weston, Esq.” 

That was a valuable document. What could 
not be read could be guessed at, and the date was 
three months old. It concerned Major John- 
son and was addressed to Mr. Weston. The 
writer was Miss Amy Derry. But why in the 
world was this letter found in Throgmorton’s 


182 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

pocket-book? Mr. Weston was alive, was with 
him, and yet Mr. Throgmorton went about with 
Mr. Weston’s watch and kept his letters. 

Nielsen,” said Dr. Koldby. “ I begin to 
think we shall have to go back to the question of 
the murdered man’s identity. We have taken it 
for granted that he was Major Johnson. Many 
things pointed to that, but we may have made a 
mistake.” 

Nielsen nodded; his thoughts were taking the 
same direction as the Doctor’s. 

The Doctor continued : 

“ Let us, anyhow, begin with a hypothesis. 
That it is Throgmorton who is drowned, is prob- 
able.” 

“ Certain,” said Nielsen. 

“ No — I beg your pardon — not certain. We 
thought Throgmorton and his sister and her hus- 
band had murdered Johnson. We now find that 
Throgmorton wears a watch with Weston’s name 
and carries letters addressed to Weston in his 
pocket-book. From this we conclude that the 
Weston we know, Mrs. Weston’s husband, who 
sits by us at table, is not the Weston to whom 
these letters are addressed.” 

Nielsen interposed. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 183 


“ Let us say at once, Doctor, that he isn’t Wes- 
ton at all, but Major Johnson.” 

“ Possibly,” said the Doctor. ‘‘We next con- 
clude that ” 

Nielsen interrupted again: 

“ That the man whose body we found in the 
cellar at Cranbourne Grove is not Johnson, but 
Weston.” 

“ That is too hastily concluded,” said the Doc- 
tor. “ Don’t let us jump at conclusions. That 
is one of your criminological maxims — which, by 
the way, you abandon on every possible occasion 
with the most charming inconsistency. We have 
a right to conclude that the murdered man is not 
Johnson, because by this doubt we open up a 
prospect of a better conclusion. We have reason 
to believe that these people do not go under their 
proper baptismal names, but at the same time, 
in consideration of the post office and the tele- 
graph, and especially of Mr. Sydney Armstrong, 
they are compelled to be known by certain fixed 
names which they cannot get away from. Ob- 
viously, the name of Johnson is one that is to be 
concealed. The name of Throgmorton is neces- 
sary, because it covers a business relation. The 
name of Weston is not necessary as far as the 


184 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


men are concerned, but it is necessary for her. 
We, therefore, have the right to suppose that one 
of the gentlemen is Mr. Johnson, and we are in- 
clined to think that this is Mr. Weston’s right 
name. That these two people do not live together 
like a married couple, we have already remarked ; 
and that the fault lies with her, must be obvious 
to you, who have paid somewhat incautious at- 
tentions to the lady — who is charming, I admit. 
So that the murdered man is either Weston or 
Throgmorton.” 

“ But Armstrong had seen Throgmorton,” ob- 
jected Nielsen. 

“ Do we know that? ” asked the Doctor; “ and 
do we know when? Do we, in fact, know any- 
thing at all about Weston and Throgmorton be- 
yond what we can guess, and what this letter of 
Miss Derry’s tells us? As to Major Johnson, 
we know that last year he was compelled to leave 
the Army on account of a card scandal. We 
know that the name of Weston is mentioned here. 
We know, also, that Mrs. Weston has played a 
part, but Throgmorton has been for us the 
leader. Is Throgmorton Weston? Is he not Mrs. 
Weston’s husband rather than her brother? She 
is not particularly gracious to either of the two 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 185 


men. And then, is the murdered man Throg- 
morton? Be honest, Nielsen; neither you nor I 
know that. On the other hand, we know that we 
have added another irregularity to our previous 
one. We are now pretty deeply implicated in 
this affair, and we shall come off cheapest if we 
have to answer for it in Denmark, where we are 
known and have a certain position.” 

“ You mean that we should go to the police? ” 
asked Nielsen. “ Choose a local officer of justice, 
of the home-made Danish type, and let him loose 
on the mystery? In other words, cause the arrest 
of Mrs. Weston and Major Johnson just at the 
moment when we feel certain that these two are 
innocent, and when the murderer, as you re- 
marked on the beach, has received his punish- 
ment.” 

“ I never remarked anything so stupid,” said 
the Doctor coolly. “If you will remember, I 
said the very reverse. But I agree with you: it 
will be an unpleasant business for Mrs. Weston, 
for the Major, and for Amy. Amy of the cat, 
who is the one I am most partial to — though you, 
being a young man, seem inclined to favor Mrs. 
Weston. For us two it can’t be such an expen- 
sive entertainment, but in any case it will not be 


186 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


very handsome of us to take refuge among our 
home authorities if the others are to be exposed 
to unpleasantness — and think of the horror of 
it: a Royal Danish police magistrate! ” 

Nielsen smiled. ‘‘ That is a redeeming feature, 
Doctor. But we ought to exclude the police, all 
the same. Let us set to work at once. Let us 
write to Miss Amy Derry and invite her over 
here.” 

“When you have had your first silly ideas 
washed off by a friendly douche from the under- 
signed, you turn out to be quite an intelligent 
young man, Nielsen.” 

Thus the Doctor accepted the idea, and next 
morning the post cart conveyed from Lokken to 
Hjorring a letter written in Nielsen’s hand, ad- 
dressed to Miss A. Derry, London, as follows: 

“ Dear Madam, 

“ For reasons which you will learn later, I have 
been looking for Major Johnson, and have found 
him here with Mrs. Weston. It is all more seri- 
ous than you think. You must come. It would 
be advisable for Mr. Sydney Armstrong to come 
too. You may tell him from his tenants at 48 
Cranbourne Grove, that Mr. Throgmorton has 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 187 

been drowned in a boating accident in the Skager- 
rack, and that the best thing he can do is to come 
to Lokken with you as soon as he can. I cannot 
write more, but you promised to trust to me. 

“Yours faithfully, 

“ Holger Nielsen.” 

It was a good day’s work the two men had 
done. 

The same evening the report spread that the 
body of the drowned Englishman had been found 
half-way between Fureby Beck and Lyngby 
church, by his brother-in-law and the local cus- 
tom-house officer, accompanied by the mounted 
policeman of the district. 

The Englishman was, of course, stone dead. 
The district magistrate came himself to view the 
body, on account of possible negotiations with 
the English authorities. 


CHAPTER VII 


“ Mr. Neilsen,” said Weston, next day after 
lunch, as he politely accosted Nielsen on his way 
to the beach, ‘‘ you are a lawyer, and you speak 
English. You will allow me a question, which I 
am obliged to ask, and which is excusable under 
the circumstances?” 

“ Of course,” said Nielsen. “ I am ready to 
give you all the guidance I can.” 

“ Aha,” he thought, “ it’s the police.” 

The Englishman went on: 

“ Have you any objection to going up to my 
room, where we can talk undisturbed? ” 

“ Certainly not,” answered Nielsen. 

They went up to Weston’s room, and then it 
came. 

“ You are a lawyer, Mr. Nielsen. I am a 
stranger in this country. The fishermen do not 
understand affairs of this kind, and the police 
official who was with me yesterday is evidently 
only a subordinate. I therefore ask you: what 
will happen now? ” 


188 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 189 


“An examination of the body,” said Nielsen; 
“ a perfectly simple business, by which the chief 
of police, or his deputy, constituted as sheriff, 
in conjunction with the district doctor, will es- 
tablish the fact that Mr. Throgmorton is dead, 
and the cause of death. Probably the crew of 
the boat will be examined, to find out whether 
anyone was to blame. Obviously, no one was to 
blame — and so the thing is done.” 

“ But how about Mrs. Weston and me? ” 
“You will probably be called upon to give your 
explanation. As to Mr. Throgmorton’s identity, 
of course there can be no question. You know 
him, and Mrs. Weston is his sister, isn’t she? ” 
Nielsen stole a glance at the Englishman. He 
thought Mr. Weston was rather nervous, so he 
added ; 

V , 

“ The question of identity will be of no im- 
portance here, where you and Mrs. Weston will 
simply say that you know who the deceased is.” 

“ Don’t they require an oath, or witnesses, or 
something of that sort? ” asked the Englishman, 
quite calmly and naturally; still Nielsen thought 
his voice trembled a little. 

“Not a bit,” said Nielsen. “ No, the whole 
thing is a formality, or scarcely that.” 


190 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ But the question of inheritance? ” suggested 
the Englishman tentatively. 

“ Will be settled in England,” replied Nielsen 
shortly. 

Mr. Weston seemed relieved. 

Nielsen added: “ However, it will be necessary 
for you or Mrs. Weston, or both of you, to ap- 
pear, not before the police-court, but before the 
registrar for probate — it is the same man, by the 
way, who discharges both functions. You see, 
in Denmark, as soon as a person dies, the ques- 
tion of his estate is gone into by the local court. 
From the point of view of the private individual 
this is more practical, but the English arrange- 
ment gives more work to the members of my pro- 
fession. You will have to see the registrar at 
Hjorring one day and make a statement as to 
the deceased’s estate. The affair will then be 
referred through the Danish Foreign Office to 
the English authorities concerned.” 

“ Will an oath be required here? ” 

Nielsen smiled — but suppressed his smile at 
once, when he saw the Englishman frown. 

“ Certainly, they will require an oath. That 
is, they will want a statement on oath that you 
and Mrs. Weston have known Mr. Throgmorton 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 191 

for so many years and can speak as to his iden- 
tity. That is what I should require, if I were 
registrar. Whether it is necessary, I don’t know, 
but in any case it can make no difference to you 
or Mrs. Weston.” 

“Of course not,” said the Englishman — and 
added: “ So it won’t be to-day? ” 

“ Certainly not,” said Nielsen. “ But if you 
want my assistance, I am willing to help you with 
the question of inheritance. You understand, of 
course, I don’t practice, but you may dispose of 
me in any way.” 

“ Thanks,” said the Englishman. “ I’ll talk to 
Mrs. Weston about it.” 

Nielsen then left him. 

Koldby was dozing in Dr. Madsen’s beach 
chair. The weather was warm and still ; all traces 
of the storm had disappeared from the sea and 
the sands, but Bolle Jens’ Betty lay with three 
holes in her side and her mast gone. The lobster- 
box had gone to sea, and the insurance people 
were making difficulties about it. And the dead 
Englishman lay up at the fire-engine houi^e. 

“ Doctor,” said Nielsen — they were alone 
among the beach chairs, “he’s alarmed about 
the oath of identity. Now the plot thickens.” 


192 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ And the watch? ” 

“ He said nothing about it.” 

“ He didn’t mention it to the custom-house man 
either. That excellent official has just described 
the finding of the body to me — with all details. 
But he said nothing of the watch. Funny, isn’t 
it? What is he doing now?” 

“Mr. Weston is holding a conference with 
Mrs. Weston. I have given him to understand 
that he will get off easily to-day. It will be worse 
when the probate court has its turn.” 

“ Then they’ll lie?” 

“ He will, perhaps, but what will she do?” 

“ She will lie, too,” said the Doctor. “ What 
else should they do? ” 

“ And their oath? ” 

“ My dear Nielsen, you are one of the most 
determined opponents of the oath as an institu- 
tion, and you have lectured at the Working- 
men’s Institute on the impropriety of requiring 
an oath, a lecture which hit the mark like all your 
others — and now you stand here insisting on the 
excellence of the oath. You must not misunder- 
stand me; it is only what I expected of you, but 
it’s funny, all the same, isn’t it? ” 

“ I have never asserted that the oath might not 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 193 


be used in certain cases to get at the truth— it 
would be foolish to deny it. I simply insist that 
all compulsion of the truth is irreconcilable with 
sound principles of justice.” 

“ Of course,” laughed the Doctor. “ The po- 
lice principle is unjust, the criminals have all the 
rights on their side. And that’s what this whole 
affair is based on. I don’t mind; long live Pro- 
gress and modern criminology ! The madder the 
better! ” 

Nielsen was a little nettled. “ There is no 
question of criminals’ rights. If Mrs. Weston 
has reasons for concealing the dead man’s name, 
she should not be compelled to disclose it with 
threats of eternal damnation.” 

“ She may have sense enough not to believe in 
eternal damnation, my friend. If you ask me, I 
don’t believe she does.” 

“ Well, penal servitude, then,” said Nielsen im- 
patiently. “ It comes to the same thing.” 

“ No, stop a bit, young man,” said the Doctor. 
‘‘ It’s much worse. I’d risk eternal damnation 
any day, especially now that the bishops in agree- 
ment with the Church of Rome have arranged a 
comfortable little Purgatory for repentant de- 
ceased persons. Anyhow, we don’t know any- 


194 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


thing about that. But penal servitude is decid- 
edly unpleasant, and therefore useful for the 
present purpose. You are inconsistent, as usual, 
my dear sir.” 

“ Not a bit. I say that you ought not to force 
people to declare what they would rather con- 
ceal. Criminals have a right to lie. We others 
become criminals by lying. There’s no sense in 
that. I am opposed on principle to all oaths, but 
I acknowledge that they are much more modern 
than thumbscrews and red-hot tongs, and per- 
haps more effectual, too. But they have just 
as little to do with the truth as torture has. If 
these people have any real interest to serve by 
lying and perjuring themselves, then they’ll 
do so.” 

“ I think so, too,” said the Doctor; “ but allow 
me to remark that it was you who were trying to 
make out the contrary.” 

“ That was to clear my ideas,” said Nielsen 
nervously. “ She’ll come to see me this after- 
noon; I have offered my services.” 

“ That was noble of you.” 

The Doctor smiled. 

“I don’t want to get her into a difficulty. 
Quite the contrary.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 195 


“ Are you going to tell her the little story of 
Cranbourne Grove, eh?” 

“ No, not yet.” 

‘‘Very well, Nielsen. Then you are going to 
act in this case exactly like Society, which uses 
the means it has, in default of better ones. That’s 
the root of the matter. It’s no use talking of 
ideal right and ideal duty, there is another thing 
that is called expediency. Society has to keep 
the criminals off us. It tries to do so as well as 
it can. That’s all. This is done without theories 
and by the means which expediency offers. 
Afterwards you clever lawyers may theorize as 
much as you like, and knock your theories to 
pieces again, for all I care. It is only a sport. 
No, give me realities, my son. Realities for me, 
if you please.” 

“ Of course, you’re wrong again,” said Niel- 
sen, in a friendly tone; “because, as usual, you 
are mixing up theory and practice. The theories 
interest me, because, after all, they have an in- 
fluence on practice. For this reason radical 
theories are worth more than gold. The law of 
self-preservation makes our practice egoistic, and 
egoism and conservatism are one. But as far as 
practice — as far as the present case is concerned. 


196 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


I am firmly determined to try and find out 
whether Mrs. Weston is connected with our 
mystery by direct complicity.” 

“And then?” 

“ Then I shall still have the right to delay the 
next step. I mean to let her say what she will 
say, and not to tell her what I know. And, fur- 
ther, I mean to drag the matter on until we have 
Miss Derry over here. Then the Major will be 
betrayed, and Mrs. Weston will be forced to be 
frank with us.” 

The Doctor put his head on one side. 

“ My dear Cato Junior, it would suit you much 
better to play an open game. Why, hang it, you 
are the champion of truth and the rights of man. 
Why on earth must you then use the famous 
double tongue? Live according to your pure 
doctrine, sir. Live according to that.” 

Nielsen rose and stood a moment with his eyes 
on the shining water ; then he turned to the Doc- 
tor and said: 

“ O man of little faith, know that when man 
was created in imperfection, as we are told, then 
the Lie was placed by the side of man to screen 
his imperfection. By means of the Lie man be- 
came like his prototype; the Lie conceals that 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 197 


which shall he revealed. The Lie hecame every- 
thing, it hecame truth itself. We simply can- 
not dispense with the Lie; only by confessing it 
daily, could we be rid of it; but then the world 
would come to an end, and the last man would 
die!” 

To these doctrines Koldby made no comment, 
but settled himself comfortably in his chair to 
resume his doze; and his friend took the hint and 
returned to the hotel. 


CHAPTER VIII 


The viewing of the body was conducted with 
solemn stillness. Mr. Throgmorton was dead, he 
could not come to life again. No blame could 
attach to the skipper of the boat; the North Sea 
and adjacent waters have their whims and hu- 
mors: it sometimes pleases them to treat their 
guests so that they die of the treatment. Never- 
theless, the North Sea continues to be plowed, 
and the medical faculty occasionally has to attest 
a case of Mors, while the authorities of the dry 
land write their official remarks in a big book. 

It was assumed that there was no doubt as to 
Mr. Throgmorton’s identity; andj of course, 
there was none either. 

The question for the probate court was ad- 
journed, and the chief of police informed Mr. 
Weston, through the interpreter, that his deputy 
would present himself and register the property 
found on the body. There were only a few 
articles, but a considerable sum of money, and 
this necessitated the action of the court. 

After a light lunch at the coast-guard’s, they 

198 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 199 


separated, and Mr. Weston was left to bury his 
friend. 

The chief of police took charge of the cash 
found on the deceased, after deducting 200 
crowns for funeral expenses; it amounted to 
about 1200 crowns in Danish money. 

Mr. Weston, in his ignorance, could only he 
polite to the authorities ; he could neither say nor 
do anything. 

After dinner he went to see Nielsen, and 
poured out the tale of his hardships. 

“ You see, Mr. Nielsen,” he said, “ Throg- 
morton was our financier. The money really be- 
longed to Mrs. Weston, but as he was the most 
business-like of us, we left all money matters to 
him. We have only a few Danish notes besides 
the money for the funeral. What are we to do? ” 

“You had better wait and mention it to the 
probate court. Then we shall see what the regis- 
trar will say. The best way would be to get con- 
firmation of it from England. I don’t think the 
registrar can act on his own responsibility.” 

Mr. Weston shook his head. 

“This is a desperate aifair for Mrs. Weston 
and me. We can’t even get home.” 

Nielsen took out his pocket-book. 


200 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ Mr. Weston,” said he, “ I am willing to let 
you have what you want. I understand very well 
that you are in an awkward situation. I have of- 
fered to assist you, and I shall keep my word.” 

Weston considered. 

“ It’s too much,” said he ; “I am quite a 
stranger to you.” 

“ I look upon you as a gentleman, Mr. Wes- 
ton, and your word is enough for me. As I say, 
I am at your disposal. As a matter of form, I 
shall ask you just for a receipt for the amount. 
And as I said before, I will assist you with what 
you want.” 

Weston was perceptibily embarrassed. 

Nielsen was still standing with his pocket-book 
in his hand. 

Weston looked up rather shyly — Would 
fifty pounds be asking too much?” he said. 
“ Mrs. Weston ” 

“ It’s a good lot,”^ thought Nielsen, but he did 
not betray himself. 

“ Not at all — I understand quite that with a 

lady But you must give me a couple of 

days, as I haven’t that amount with me.” 

“ Less might perhaps ” 

“ Not at all,” Nielsen repeated. “ You won’t 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 201 


be able to do with less, I understand very well. 
But to cover any contingency, I shall have to ask 
you to give me a formal power of attorney to 
represent you at the probate court. From what 
I understand, Mrs. Weston, your wife, is the de- 
ceased’s sole heiress. The sum will therefore 
come to you, or to her, if she has a separate es- 
tate. All you have to do is to get legitimation 
from England, and the affair will he in order. 
That can be done in the course of a few days, can 
it not? ” 

Nielsen looked at Weston. 

It was evident that the thing would not go so 
smoothly. Nielsen was not very well satisfied. 
Fifty pounds is 900 crowns in Danish money, 
and that was a good deal to put into the English- 
man. For, if Nielsen and the Doctor were right 
in their hypotheses, he ought to use the opportu- 
nity to disappear and find another place to hide 
in. Besides, he must be kept at Lokken until 
Miss Derry and Mr. Armstrong arrived. But if 
they would only hurry themselves, it would not 
be a bad idea for Nielsen to keep Weston wait- 
ing a few days for the sake of the considerable 
sum of money promised. 

Weston seemed to have made up his mind. 


202 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


"‘Mr. Nielsen,” he said, “you are doing us, 
Mrs. Weston and myself, a great service. But 
I must first speak to her about it. You will un- 
derstand that.” 

“ Of course,” said Nielsen. 

The weather continued fine and there was a 
splendid sunset with a background of gold to the 
glowing disk. 

Nielsen and the Doctor walked up and down 
the sands and looked at it. 

Mrs. Weston came down the gap, where the 
most notable curiosity of the place, the stinking 
open drain, spread its perfume in the still air of 
the summer evening. 

She made straight for the two friends. 

“ I’ll go,” said the Doctor. “ She wants to 
talk to you. Be as inconsistent as usual, and 
come to me afterwards.” 

He turned on his heel in the moist sand and 
made towards Nybsek. 

Mrs. Weston approached Nielsen and greeted 
him with a friendly and serious air. 

“Your friend has gone off — did I drive him 
away? ” 

“ No,” said Nielsen. “ He wanted to take an 
evening walk to Nybaek; but I was rather tired.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 203 

“ That is fortunate,” she said. “ Shall we sit 
down? ” 

They were standing in front of the Doctor’s 
beach chairs, which were empty. 

Mrs Weston sat in one of them; Nielsen took 
the other. The chairs were turned towards the 
beach and the sunset. 

“It’s lovely here,” said Nielsen; “look how 
calm the sea is — and yesterday ” 

Mrs. Weston declined to follow this up. 

“ I want to talk to you about business,” she 
said. “ You are a lawyer, and you have been of 
great assistance to me during the last few days, 
more than you think. It may seem strange that 
I should come to you — but you are a lawyer. 
Will you be my solicitor? ” 

Nielsen bowed. 

She went on. Mine, I say. You have been 
talking to Mr. Weston. He has told me of your 
handsome offer. I thank you for it, if you were 
thinking of me. I am in a difficulty. Mr. 
Throgmorton’s death has placed me in a more 
difficult position than you can imagine. It may 
seem strange that I should apply to you. You 
may think it would be more natural — ^but no mat- 
ter. Will you be my lawyer? ” 


204 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ With pleasure, Mrs. Weston. Only I beg 
you to remember that I am a stranger. If I am 
to be of real use to you, it will be necessary to con- 
fide in me. Without your confidence I cannot 
protect your interests, and I am accustomed to 
do thoroughly whatever I undertake. I must 
ask for full information about you, about the 
deceased, about Mr. Weston — about everything, 
in short. Have you considered that, Mrs. 
Weston? ” 

Mrs. Weston raised her beautiful dark eyes 
and looked at Nielsen with a melancholy smile. 

I have considered everything'^ she said. 

“ Very well,” he answered. “ Then I am 
ready.” 

“You mustn’t let Mr. Weston have fifty 
pounds,” she said, in some embarrassment, but 
with strong emphasis. “ By doing so you would 
only cause trouble to me, and to yourself. You 
would never see the money again.” 

“Ah,” was Nielsen’s remark. 

She blushed. “ It may sound strange, but it 
is true. Mr. Weston would leave here and would 
never come back. He is not a bad man, he has his 
good points, many, I may say. But he is a weak 
character. There is no curing that.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 205 


“ Mr. Weston is your husband? ” Nielsen held 
his breath. 

“ Yes,” she said. 

Nielsen tried to look her in the face, but she 
avoided his eyes. 

He did not believe her. 

“ Good,” said he. “ Before I consider your 
astonishing communication, I must inquire 
whether there is community of property between 
you and Mr. Wetson.” 

“ No,” said Mrs. Weston. “ There is a mar- 
riage settlement, according to which our little 
fortune is mine. Mr. Weston cannot dispose 
of it.” 

“And your lawyer in London?” asked Niel- 
sen. He said London involuntarily. 

“ Mr. Sydney Armstrong — an agent in South 
Kensington — manages my affairs.” 

“ Ah,” said Nielsen. It did not surprise him. 
“ Then the best thing will be to telegraph to him 
that your brother has lost his life.” 

Mrs. Weston shook her head. “ If that was 
all, I should not need you, Mr. Nielsen.” 

No doubt there was something in that. Niel- 
sen already regretted his letter to Miss Derry. 
He asked cautiously: 


206 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


What am I to do, then? ” 

“ You must contrive to keep Mr. Weston here 
and lend me a small sum — ^much less than fifty 
pounds — to get home with.” 

‘‘ And then?” 

Then you must represent me before the 
authorities here. As soon as I get home, I shall 
send you the money and the necessary papers. 
Will you do that? ” 

“ Of course,” said Nielsen. “ Only I must 
know about your relation to the deceased and 
about the home, of which you speak. It would 
be the most natural thing for you to apply to Mr. 
Armstrong, and if you do not do so, you must 
have weighty reasons; and these reasons I must 
know.” 

“ Then you don’t trust me,” she said sadly. 

“ Indeed, you’re mistaken — ^but I must be able 
to justify my position before the authorities and 
before Mr. Armstrong. If you have reasons for 
going past that gentleman, I shall, of course, re- 
spect them, but I must have sufficient reasons. 
We lawyers, that is, the honorable ones among 
us, are a great fraternity, and we do not go be- 
hind one another’s backs. Therefore, dear 
madam, however inconvenient it may be to you. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 207 


you must tell me why you will not take the most 
direct course.” 

“ I do not trust Mr. Armstrong. He was my 
brother’s man of business ; my brother had great 
faults^ — unhappily nothing but faults. Mr. Arm- 
strong allowed my brother to make use of him, 
and although I do not believe he is dishonest in 
himself, I have no confidence in him. Absolutely 
none. That is my reason.” 

“ But you have some family at home? ” 

“ No,” she answered. “ My father was a doc- 
tor in the Colonies; he is dead; my mother died 
when I was a child. I have no relations in Eng- 
land — none at all.” 

Nielsen looked at her with compassion. Her 
great dark eyes rested on him beseechingly; they 
were moist. Nielsen thought of Dr. Koldby. 
No, he would find out how things were. 

“You spoke about your home — or didn’t I 
understand you rightly?” he continued, merci- 
lessly. 

The sun had just disappeared below the 
horizon. 

“Shall we walk a little?” she said, with a 
movement as though she felt cold. 

Nielsen got up. 


208 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


At the same moment he caught sight of the tall 
Englishman up the gap. Mrs. Weston saw him, 
too. 

“ Come,” she said, “ this way.” 

So they turned towards Nybaek. They walked 
in silence for a few moments, then Nielsen re- 
peated his question. 

“ You spoke of a home ” 

“ Yes,” she said; “ I have a house in London; 
it is let at present, but it is mine. Mr. Arm- 
strong looks after it. He managed it for my — 
brother.” 

Nielsen thought she hesitated in saying “ bro- 
ther.” It struck him that she seldom spoke of her 
brother directly. Her words about him just now 
were cold and sharp. 

“Where is that house situated?” asked Niel- 
sen. 

“ In South Kensington — well, you don’t know 
London, so it is no use mentioning the street.” 

Nielsen knew where it was. He could not 
avoid knowing who had taken the house. She 
called it her house. Mr. Armstrong called it 
Major Johnson’s house. If she went to London 

now, she must find out, and then . Nielsen 

felt that then it would be all over. His first im- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 209 


pulse was to tell her that he was her tenant. 
But 

The Doctor came towards them. 

Mr. Nielsen/’ she asked him hurriedly, “ have 
you full confidence in your friend? ” 

“ Absolute,” answered Nielsen. 

“ Do you tell him everythin^ ? ” 

“As a rule.” 

“ Will you tell him what I have asked you to 
do?” 

“ That depends upon you.” 

She stopped; then said: “ You may tell him.” 

Nielsen smiled. 

“ What you have confided to me, might be told 
to anyone. We both have eyes, and your rela- 
tion to Mr. Weston has been quite apparent to 
us. That you and your brother were not on af- 
fectionate terms we have both remarked. In 
short, Mrs. Weston, I have not your confidence. 
Nevertheless, I shall do what you have asked 
me — to-morrow.” 

“ And if he dissuades you? ” 

“ He will not do that. Dr. Koldby is a sensible 
man, and he admires you. I am to put off Mr. 
Weston, then? ” 

She nodded. 


210 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


The Doctor then came up to them. 

“ Good-evening,” he said. 

They all went home together. Mr. Weston 
stood in the hotel doorway and followed Nielsen 
with his gaze. 

And, as Nielsen expected, he came after him 
and said he hoped Mrs. Weston agreed with him. 
Nielsen hoped so, too; he would write the same 
evening for the money. 

Thereupon Mr. Weston went to his room re- 
assured. 


CHAPTER IX 


“ Well, Nielsen,” said the Doctor, late that 
night, as they were smoking their last cigar; “ did 
you hold your own? ” 

“Nearly,” answered Nielsen. 

“ When a man says that he nearly held his own, 
it means that he gave in. That’s an infallible 
rule. So it was she who came off the winner?” 

“Perhaps,” replied Nielsen; he was not quite 
willing to admit it. “In any case, she was 
cheaper than Mr. Weston. She warned me 
against lending him money. It sounded very 
honest. She wants to get rid of him, that’s 
plain.” 

“ Come on with your report,” said the Doctor 
briefly. 

Nielsen recounted all that had passed. 

“ Hum,” said the Doctor, when he had heard 
it — ^walking up and down and muttering to him- 
self. “ So you haven’t yet done anything fool- 
ish. You have looked rather deeply into the 
pretty lady’s eyes, I can tell that from the color- 
211 


212 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


ing of your account. You have a right to do that. 
But she has told you lies, and that she has no 
right to do, nor have you a right to let yourself 
be fooled.” 

Nielsen said nothing. The Doctor went on: 

“ I pass over that about her father and mother 
who are dead. Those loved ones are no business 
of ours. Requiescant in pace. Armstrong we 
know; he is no doubt a blackguard. In paren- 
thesis, I congratulate you on not betraying your 
acquaintance with him. It would have been real 
Danish to have burst out with, ‘ Bless me ! I 
know that man.’ You have one cosmopolitan 
talent, you can hold your tongue. And you were 
quite right not to know Cranbourne Grove, but 
as you say, she will find that out if she gets the 
papers from Armstrong.” 

“ I can’t see what right you have to accuse her 
of lying.” 

The Doctor laughed. “ Ho, ho ! there spoke 
the victim of Cupid. Lay aside, for a moment, 
your overkindly feelings for the lady, and tell 
me honestly what she said to you. As you say 
yourself, nothing. She insisted that Throgmor- 
ton was her brother, which I take the liberty of 
doubting. A brother and sister who are on such 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 213 


terms as they were, do not go about together. I 
believe the so-called Mr. Throgmorton was Mr. 
Weston. That idea occurred to me out at Ny- 
bsek, where one can sometimes hit upon a good 
idea. Your account nails it fast with a tenpenny 
nail. The lanky Englishman, who is now to be 
cast off, is Major Johnson. That we know. So 
she has lied, the serpent, hasn’t she? ” 

“ You have no right to say that,” was the an- 
swer. “ We have made it our invariable rule not 
to jump at conclusions; and that is what you are 
doing.” 

“ No, my friend, I’m not; but you won’t see. 
If the lanky one were Mr. Weston, the two would 
either separate or live as man and wife. She 
would not leave him to you and run away her- 
self — for that is what she is going to do. She 
has not a scrap of liking for him. I won’t pre- 
sume to suggest that she will not send you the 
money. She will do that, perhaps. Though 
ladies have been known to be forgetful in mat- 
ters of that kind, too. But, never mind, per- 
haps she will, we say. But you will never see her 
again. The house is hers. She will go straight 
to that thief Armstrong and discover that you 
and I are her tenants ; she will be suspicious, real- 


214 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


ize, and vanish to the Colonies. Pop goes the 
weasel! And then she is out of our world. In 
the meantime Miss Derry will come alone — Mr. 
Armstrong is much too clever to let himself be 
tempted over here. She has probably already tele- 
graphed to him. And then we shall be left with 
the lanky Englishman and Amy No. 1. Only 
the cat will be wanting to make the party com- 
plete. What?” 

The Doctor sat down, puffing like a steam- 
engine. Nielsen was quite in good spirits. 

‘‘ It’s not like you to break into a gallop, my 
dear Doctor. If Mrs. Weston had any inten- 
tion of doing what you so chivalrously suggest, 
why in the world should she give herself the 
trouble of talking to me? ” 

The Doctor laughed sarcastically. “ Giving 
you her confidence, you ought to have said. For 
that is what you are trying to imagine she did. 
I am convinced that she even went so far as to 
give you permission to include me in that con- 
fidence.” 

Nielsen was confused. 

“ There, you see,” the Doctor continued. 
‘‘ She did so, of course. Let me thank you for 
the confidence shown me. Now it’s your turn.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 215 

Nielsen thought for a moment; then he said 
sulkily: “ So you think she really said all this to 
me to prevent my lending that lout the fifty 
pounds? ” 

“ Something like that.” The Doctor looked 
sideways at Nielsen and laughed good-naturedly. 
“ I’m sorry for you, my boy, but that’s what I 
think. Anyhow, you’ll save the difference be- 
tween what she is gracious enough to be satisfied 
with and the fifty pounds he was impudent 
enough to ask for. But as soon as she’s gone, he’ll 
be off, too. What then? ” 

“ So you think I ought not to let her have the 
money? ” 

“ It depends on what you want. If you have 
given up trying to get to the bottom of the af- 
fair, then you ought on your side to give her your 
confidence in return for hers. You ought to in- 
troduce yourself as the tenant of No. 48 Cran- 
bourne Grove, South Kensington, London, S. 
W., and declare yourself satisfied with the house 
with the exception of the cellar under the dining- 
room, where we found Amy’s cat. You may re- 
mark in passing that Madam Sivertsen has taken 
charge of the cat, but knows nothing of the quiet 
lodger in the cellar. Either she won’t understand 


216 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


you, or she’ll look in the cellar herself. Then it’ll 
be she who will take the matter up, which is only 
reasonable, as she says the house is hers. Or, on 
the other hand, she will understand you, and then 
she’ll have a fit, and you can call me in, if you 
can’t manage her yourself. What do you say to 
that? ” 

Nielsen answered quickly; 

“ That it is not well thought out, my good Doc- 
tor. In the first case both you and I would be 

properly in the cart. And ” 

“ Shall we leave the first case out of the ques- 
tion? She knows, anyhow, who that quiet lodger 
is. We don’t even know that. She has no rea- 
son for concealing his identity, if she is innocent. 

If she is an accomplice ” 

Nielsen interrupted sharply. 

“Do you think she is a murderess? ” 

She repeated the Doctor; “with a big line 
under it, what? No, in your eyes she’s an angel, 
isn’t she? In mine she is a query — an oo, if you 
like. I stick to Miss Derry. Of the two Amys 
I am more inclined to the one with the cat’s collar. 
You seem to fancy the one with the cat. For 
Amy’s cat belongs to Amy No. 2, doesn’t it? 
Well, that doesn’t matter. Go with her to Lon- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 217 


don, or rather, offer to do so. Then if she really 
wants to have your help, she will accept. If she 
says no, then you know where you have her. 
That’s my opinion.” 

“Why didn’t you say that at once. Doctor? 
There’s sense in that.” 

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders. 

“ It’s only in comedies and bad novels that 
they say the right thing at once. In comedies, it 
is a simple result of the necessities of the stage; 
in bad novels, it is because they are bad. Forgive 
me this digression. But the idea occurred to me 
while we were talking. I don’t boast, but isn’t it 
rather neat? ” 

“ Excellent,” said Nielsen. 

“ I’m so glad we’re agreed. So now you will 
offer her your company, and then you will have 
the pleasure of gazing deeply into the pretty eyes, 
while I shall have the somewhat doubtful amuse- 
ment of keeping an eye on Mr. Weston. I’m 
hanged if it will be fun for me. But I shall do 
it conscientiously. Only I want to know how 
you stand now with regard to the case — our 
case.” 

“ As before,” said Nielsen shortly. 

“ That means that I am to expect Miss Derry 


218 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


and perhaps Mr. Armstrong. But just to see 
where we are, I should like to have a few words 
about your view of the case. It changes, you 
know, just as mine does, and it would be use- 
ful to know what we believe in now.’’ 

“ To speak frankly. Doctor,” said Nielsen, “ I 
am at a loss.” 

“ So am I — ^but let me hear the latest new ver- 
sion.” 

Nielsen lighted another cigarette and walked 
up and down the room. He had to collect his 
ideas. 

The Doctor was sitting astride his chair, as on 
a high horse. 

“ Let’s hear, Mr. Lawyer! ” 

Nielsen hesitated. “ To tell you the truth. Doc- 
tor, I don’t think my theories are worth much, 
but if you want them, here they are. Mrs. Wes- 
ton is Mrs. Weston.” 

“ You believe in her,” interrupted the Doctor 
with a smile. 

“ Yes,” said Nielsen, still! The so-called Mr. 
Weston is probably Major Johnson. You be- 
lieve that too. Who the murdered man is, I don’t 
know. I think now that it is Mr. Throgmorton, 
Mrs. Weston’s brother, if Mr. Throgmorton is 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 219 


Mrs. Weston’s brother. Finally, I believe the 
drowned Englishman is Mr. Weston.” 

“If Mrs. Weston is his wife,” interrupted the 
Doctor. 

“ Of course, but we started with that assump- 
tion.” 

“ You did.” 

“ Confound it, one must start from some as- 
sumption.” 

“ All right. But then what about Amy No. 1, 
Miss Derry? Do you believe that she’s in love 
with the lanky idiot and will have him in spite 
of all his follies and his evident infatuation for 
Mrs. Weston, who doesn’t care a straw for him? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Nielsen, “ I believe that.” 

“And the cat?” 

“ That is symbolical,” said Nielsen, with a 
slight smile. “ The collar which once decorated 
the neck of Amy No. I’s cat has been trans- 
ferred by the faithless Major to the cat of Amy 
No. 2, the house cat at 48 Cranbourne Grove. 
Amy No. 1 will not give up her claim to the col- 
lar nor to the deceitful Major. She will turn up 
now and take possession of him.” 

“ In other words, we know the whole story,” 
laughed the Doctor. “ It’s not so interesting 


220 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


when we’ve got all the characters in the piece 
into their right places and solved the riddle.” 

“ On the contrary, now it begins to be earnest,” 
said Nielsen. “ We know that Throgmorton is 
murdered, but we know neither by whom nor why 
he was murdered.” 

“ Don’t you think it would be more reasonable 
to suppose that the Major, blinded by his love 
for Mrs. Weston, has murdered Mr. Weston, 
and that her scoundrel of a brother has used this 
— or — why not? that the scoundrel of a brother 
has murdered his brother-in-law to get his sister 
and the Major into his power? ” 

Nielsen made a gesture of impatience. “We 
have been there before, my friend. So we have 
made no progress, after all.” 

“ That’s just what we have done. Your Sharp- 
sightedness. But now I’m going to bed. I some- 
times get useful ideas between the blankets. But 
it’s settled, then, you will go with Mrs. Weston 
to London? ” 

“ If she will have me, yes.” 

“ And if she won’t? ” 

“ Well, then I don’t see any other course ex- 
cept a brutal change of tactics.” 

“ As I proposed before.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 221 


“ Yes, as you proposed before.” 

“ You mean, tell her all we know? ” 

‘‘ Not quite that, but enough to let her see we 
are in earnest.” 

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders. 

“ My dear Nielsen, this is going round in a cir- 
cle. But now, hang me, if I won’t go to sleep. 
For if we go on like this, it will end by being we 
that killed him, the unknown, and then we shall 
both be criminals. I don’t want that.” 

“ Nor I,” laughed Nielsen. “ Good-night ! ” 
With that they parted. 


CHAPTER X 


Next morning Mr. Weston appeared and 
asked Nielsen whether he had decided. Nielsen 
replied that he had. As he had told Mr. Weston 
the previous evening, he was writing by the next 
post to his bank to make the necessary arrange- 
ments for supplying Mr. Weston with fifty 
pounds. 

Mr. Weston seemed much relieved and walked 
off towards the south, presumably to make his 
plans. 

Nielsen, on the other hand, sent to ask Mrs. 
Weston whether she would take a walk in the op- 
posite direction. 

And they set off together towards the north. 

They crossed Fureby Beck, which glides be- 
tween grassy banks past the mill and out among 
the sand-dunes, tranquil and slow in summer amid 
the white sand of the beach. Then they climbed 
the bluff and sought a convenient place on 
Fureby down, whence they would have a view 
over the blue bay and inland over the level land- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 223 


scape, with its many farms and churches, up to 
Borglum Abbey, which lies proud and stern on 
the top of its hill. 

“ Mrs. Weston,” he said; “ I have been talking 
to my friend, and we have gone very thoroughly 
into the matter you mentioned to me yesterday. 
I have not your confidence; I asked you for it; 
and if I am to be of any help to you, it is neces- 
sary that you should trust me. Let me, there- 
fore, before we go any further, put a few ques- 
tions to you. First: You wish to separate from 
Mr. Weston? ” 

She made no answer, but bowed her head, as 
though in affirmation. 

“ Good,” said Nielsen. “ That is the first point. 
You wish me to be cognizant of this; I don’t ask 
you for your reasons. According to my view, a 
wife has the right to leave her husband whenever 
she wishes, and as your marriage, as far as I un- 
derstand, is childless, the matter is free from com- 
plication. Does Mr. Weston know of this? ” 

“ No,” said Mrs. Weston. “ But he shall learn 
it when it becomes necessary.” 

“My next question,” said Nielsen, “is this: 
Are you entirely independent of your husband in 
a financial sense?” 


224 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ Entirely,” was the brief answer. 

“ And you are your brother’s sole heiress ? ” 

“As far as I know — yes. But there is not 
likely to be anything to inherit.” 

Nielsen pricked up his ears. 

She continued hurriedly: “My brother cer- 
tainly has debts that far exceed the money he has 
left here, and even what he possessed altogether 
— if indeed he possessed anything.” 

“You are not sure about that?” asked Niel- 
sen. 

“ I did not concern myself to have my brother’s 
confidence,” she said shortly. “ My brother was 
not a good man. He is dead now.” 

Nielsen was silent for a moment; then he 
said; 

“ So it was a piece of fraud on Mr. Weston’s 
part to try to borrow money of me on the pre- 
tence that you were the heiress and he inherited 
through you. I understand now why you warned 
me, and I thank you for it. I am sorry to hear 
that an Englishman can behave in such an un- 
gentlemanly way. It would be advisable to warn 
Mr. Weston not to let any statements of that 
kind come to the ears of the court. The Danish 
authorities do not understand joking in such mat- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 225 


ters, and Mr. Weston would run the risk of seri- 
ous unpleasantness.’’ 

Mrs. Weston looked up in some alarm. 

“You don’t quite understand me, Mr. Niel- 
sen. I mean, Mr. Weston is not altogether in the 
wrong. He is really entitled to a part of this 
money — you understand, he is a sort of creditor. 
My brother owed him money.” 

“ Ah,” said Nielsen. 

Mrs. Weston was a little confused. 

Nielsen asked — in a rather sharper tone than 
before: 

“ Does that mean that Mr. Weston has a for- 
tune?” 

“ Yes,” she said. 

“ Then why doesn’t he write to England for 
money? ” 

She hesitated for a moment. 

Then she said; 

“ Mr. Weston has been unwise enough to join 
my late brother in transactions which are not 
quite — what shall I say? — not quite worthy of a 
gentleman. He gave my brother a power of at- 
torney, and everything that was sent him from 
England passed through my brother’s hands. 
Now perhaps you will understand why Mr. Arm- 


226 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

strong, who was my brother’s man of business, 
will not be the right man for me, when I want 
legal advice.” 

Nielsen understood. 

“ But,” said he, “ the house ” — in Cranbourne 
Grove, he was on the point of saying, but checked 
himself in time — “ the house you mentioned yes- 
terday, and which you told me belonged to you? ” 

“ The house,” she replied, “ is just what makes 
it necessary for me to go to London. It belonged 
to an aunt of ours ; she died last year, and left it 
to me and my brother jointly. Mr. Weston 
wished to acquire it, but Mr. Armstrong is the 
only person who knows how far that business has 
gone. Mr. Weston claims that it is his; my 
brother managed it through Mr. Armstrong, and 
it is let to two foreign gentlemen. We lived there 
for a short time, indeed it was from there that we 
came here, because it — ^because Mr. Weston did 
not wish to live in London — for the present. This 
house has been the cause of a great deal of trouble 
between us — ^but you will spare me, I’m sure, the 
discussion of these matters, which only distress 
me.” 

She looked beseechingly at him. 

Nielsen would really have liked to hear a lit- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 227 


tie more about the house, as was scarcely surpris- 
ing. He also wanted to hear Major Johnson’s 
name mentioned. But he had to admit that every- 
thing she had said tended to confirm his and the 
Doctor’s suppositions. Major Johnson had 
money, but was in the clutches of Throgmorton. 
Mrs. Weston wanted to escape from it all, and 
what she meant by the trouble the house had 
caused Nielsen understood remarkably well. 

He formed a resolution. 

“ Mrs. Weston,” he said. “ I am willing to 
help you on one condition. We will go together 
to London.” 

“ As you wish,” she said, holding out her hand. 

Nielsen was taken by surprise. 

She smiled. 

“I trust implicitly in you; you are the only 
person in the whole world I have confidence in, 
and I shall gladly follow you wherever you wish.” 

That was saying a good deal. 

Nielsen imagined he could see the Doctor’s 
skeptical head rise among the sand-dunes behind 
her. The blood rushed into his cheeks. 

Mrs. Weston looked at him with a beautiful 
smile — a friendly smile, perhaps even an affec- 
tionate smile. 


228 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Nielsen pulled himself together. 

He must mind what he was about — but Holger 
Nielsen, the self-appointed avenger of Justice, 
the criminalist and pioneer of new ideas, was in 
love. 

He was in love, but for that very reason he 
would not shrink from the danger. He would 
defy it like a Viking of the old days. 

Thus the men of progress return constantly to 
the ways of their primitive ancestors. 

He took her hand and kissed it. 

“Mrs. Weston,” he said in a low voice. 
“ Thank you for your confidence. Then we will 
go together, and whatever happens, be assured 
that I shall act for you and show myself worthy 
of that trust which I am proud to have won.” 

She gave him a warm and lingering look. 

With a shade of triumph in it — thought Niel- 
sen. His self-esteem interpreted the look other- 
wise than Dr. Koldby would have done. 

But there was no more to be said; the matter 
was settled as they had agreed. 


CHAPTER XI 


That evening, when the two friends came to- 
gether again, Dr. Koldby held forth. He was in 
an eloquent vein, and he made a warm speech, 
with a great deal of dignity and much knowledge 
of human nature in it. 

“ Nielsen,” he said, “ let me give you my diag- 
nosis. You are in love with Mrs. Weston ; I have 
been expecting that for some time, and it is a nor- 
mal case. You are going to London with her to 
assist her. I say nothing to that; I am all the 
more inclined to approve of it, as sooner or later 
you will win her confidence, and therein lies un- 
doubtedly the solution of the whole riddle. So 
far, what has happened is the best that could hap- 
pen. Either you will discover all and become an 
accomplice in a moral and judicial sense — and 
then you will request me to stop my investiga- 
tions, which, as you know, I shall be ready enough 
to do at any moment. The man in the cellar does 
not interest me very much personally, and he in- 
terests justice even less. For you believe in a 

229 


230 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


sort of justice different from that generally prac- 
ticed; I go a bit further, I don’t believe in any 
justice at all. As far as I’m concerned, you may 
go and murder a real live Councilor of State — 
and if this doctrine were turned against myself, 
I should look upon it as a sort of refinement of 
punishment. But you must promise me one 
thing: to tell me the story. I am inquisitive, you 
know, since I, like other men, am born of woman. 

“ So that is the first alternative. 

“We now come to the other. She accompanies 
you. She wants a man to get her out of her 
scrape; for she herself admits that she is in a 
scrape. She is pretty, that her mirror and a good 
many men have told her; she knows it. She has 
made her diagnosis, too, for in these cases women 
diagnose to a nicety. ‘ It shall be hef she says — 
and adds : ‘ I’ve got him.’ For the present you 
are useful to her plans. Let us hope she will give 
you something in return; men are easily satisfied, 
especially when they are in love. Now look out. 
Don’t let yourself be taken in, my boy, don’t let 
yourself be cheated out of the only advantage 
you will get in this case. You must promise me, 
whether the love affair prospers or not, don’t for 
anything let her do you out of the story. I’m not 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 231 


going to preach morality; you may behave as 
madly as you like, that’s your affair — ^but I will 
not be done out of the story of Cranbourne 
Grove. Understand that.” 

Nielsen laughed. 

“ You don’t believe in her.” 

I don’t believe in any female on this earth. 
All this story is symbolized by the cat, remember 
that. Let this lady put a collar round your neck, 
a little chain with ‘ Amy’s Puss ’ on it, a la bon- 
heur — there are men who like that sort of thing. 
But the solid result I’m going to have, namely, to 
be able to put on record the story of Amy’s cat, 
of all Amy’s cats, and of the cats of all the Amys. 
I ask nothing more. Give me your instructions 
before you go, and I shall act as you wish; now 
it becomes entirely your case. So go and meet 
your fate like the foolhardy person you are.” 

“ Very well,” said Nielsen. “ You are a sensi- 
ble man. Dr. Koldby ; you don’t preach, you don’t 
moralize, and you are ready to help. Listen then: 
Mr. Weston — we will continue to call him so 
until he is identified — I leave to you. You an- 
swer to me for him. He is under suspicion on 
account of his name ; because he gives himself out 
for Amy’s husband without being so, because he 


232 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


follows Mrs. Weston against her will; in short, 
for many reasons. Hold him fast. When Amy 
Derry arrives, she will deal with him ; and whether 
you are then to set him free or not, depends upon 
what I find out in London. I have resolved to be 
firm, — you laugh, — ^but I have a will. If she is 
what I believe and hope, then my place is by her 
side.” 

“Justice takes a back seat,” remarked the 
Doctor. 

“ When Love and Justice meet hand to hand. 
Doctor, then I’m for Love.” 

“ That’s a nasty, cheap, melodramatic phrase, 
Nielsen ; but like all such tags it contains a grain 
of truth, and it proves that our forefathers were 
right. For we men are burnt out ; let us say, by 
about seventy we are no longer useful to society. 
The few of us who are not inflammable, as, for 
instance, your humble servant, are so because the 
whole thing is so completely indifferent to us. 
But now I’ve got my orders. You go away and 
meet your fate, but take care you don’t cheat me 
out of the solution, or I shall give you notice to 
terminate our friendship.” 

“ You can trust me,” said Nielsen kindly. 

“ The devil I can. When a man goes and falls 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 233 


in love, he gets so much of the woman’s nature 
into him that friendship is in danger. The 
ancient friendship, amicitiaj — see Cicero and Sen- 
eca, — was only possible between pure men. Let 
us leave these melancholy subjects and go to bed. 
For early to-morrow morning you and the lady 
begin your flight. The post wagon goes at half- 
past five. I shall do my best to preserve your 
good name in respectable Lokken.” 

“ Yes,” said Nielsen, “ but above all, look after 
Weston. We must be clear of him, until the 
prodigy has happened.” 

There they were both agreed — all three, in fact. 



BOOK III 


AMY’S CAT 




BOOK III 


AMY’S CAT 

CHAPTER I 

Lokken, July 4, 19 — . 
Dear Friend and Comrade in Arms: 

According to my promise — and I have made it 
my habit always to keep my promises — I am go- 
ing to give you a conscientious report of all that 
happened in the loyal town of Lokken when it 
became apparent that you had vanished with Mrs. 
Weston. This did not take long to become ap- 
parent, as that ass, the cloth merchant from Ran- 
ders, treated me to the news at breakfast. I let 
him think it surprised me, and came off fairly 
well. I declared myself ready to prepare Mr. 
Weston as considerately as possible for the news 
of the blow that had fallen upon his house. Hear 
now how I did it. I went to him and informed 
him that you had gone to Hjorring to make ar- 
rangements, and that you had asked me to tell 
him this and to add, what you had forgotten to 
say to him, that it would be best, in view of a 

237 


238 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


possible visit from the probate court, that he 
should make an excursion to Rub j erg Cliff, He 
wanted to speak to his wife, but I made it clear 
to him that it would be better for her not to know 
anything about it, so that she might be quite ig- 
norant , in case the authorities should arrive while 
he was away. 

N. B. — Mr. Weston is preposterously idiotic. 

Therefore it came off. We started, followed 
by the gaze of all the people in the hotel ; they evi- 
dently believed we were on the track of the fugi- 
tives. We hired a carriage at the maltster’s and 
jogged along the awful road to the Cliff. It was 
a sore trial, but as I felt the whole time that while 
we were driving northwards you and Amy No. 2 
were making your way with equal speed in 
the opposite direction, I succeeded for the first 
time in my life in enjoying a drive at snail’s pace. 
We reached the Cliff without any event of impor- 
tance. The brute was sulky and silent. Then we 
ate some lunch we had brought with us and drank 
an excellent red wine — you know it, the wine I 
found at the local dealer’s the other day. We lit 
our cigars, and then I began: “Mr. Weston,” 
said I, “allow me to make a confession. Your 
wife has run away with my friend.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 239 


You know what a Jack-in-the-box is like — 
well, that is just how Mr. Weston behaved; he 
jumped a yard into the air. 

I asked him to keep his seat; you had taken 
the first train and must be at Aarhus now, would 
soon be at Esbjerg, and then on board and away. 

Then I let him blackguard me for five min- 
utes, and must admit that the English language 
possesses a rich store of invective, which might 
be of considerable effect on a man with a less 
clear conscience than mine. When he seemed to 
have exhausted the repertoire, I rose to reply. I 
cannot give my speech word for word, but shall 
try to report it as well as I can. 

“ Sir,” said I, “ now you have finished, and 
now I am going to begin. Of course, it is out of 
the question to follow the fugitives; you will not 
catch them in Denmark. You have no money 
to pay your hotel bill, you won’t get any from 
me, and you will be arrested if you try to clear 
out. We are expecting the people from the pro- 
bate court, and they will require your presence. 
So you can abuse me as much as you like, but 
you won’t do any good by it. You are the one 
that’s a hole. For the present, you must leave 
your wife out of the reckoning; she has gone to 


240 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


London to arrange her aff airs ; she wouldn’t have 
you with her, and Nielsen offered to escort her, 
much against her will. Nielsen is a man of honor, 
and your wife is in good hands. Here, I must tell 
you, there is no question of an elopement or any- 
thing of that sort.” 

(May I remark in parenthesis, that I said that 
because at present I can answer for it; but let me 
add, that I don’t advise you to give the lie to my 
words!) 

But to return to Mr. Weston: “ Sir,” said I — 
I said “ Sir ” once more, “ you are my prisoner. 
Until Mrs. Weston comes back I hold you as a 
hostage. I shall see about your board, tell lies 
to the other visitors, in short, be of service to you 
in every way, but you must stay here. In a few 
days Nielsen will be back, and then you will be 
free.” 

Evidently he did not understand this at all. 
He boiled up again and talked about a great na- 
tion and so on, as the idiots always do, who are 
units among more millions than we are. He 
threatened me with the British consul. I listened 
to him and said I should be happy to go with him 
to the British consul. 

‘‘ You treat me as a criminal,” said he. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 241 


To this I answered that, as prisoners generally 
belonged to that accidental variety of our fellow 
citizens, he was quite at liberty to hold that opin- 
ion. I had grounds for supposing that he was 
sailing under false colors. If he preferred to be 
in official custody instead of mine, I should be 
happy to give way to the police. 

The police were evidently not at all to his lik- 
ing; he collapsed, and asked in a feeble tone by 
what right I treated him thus? 

To which I replied: “Without the slightest 
right.” 

I thought that was the most honest thing 
to say. 

He began to bluster again. 

I took him down. “ My friend and I,” I said, 
“ have long entertained a certain vague suspicion 
of you ; this is due to your hesitation with regard 
to the authorities, and other things. When Mrs. 
Weston or Nielsen returns from London, you 
will be free. We have nothing to do with the 
police, and I can assure you that as soon as Niel- 
sen has finished his business with your wife, you 
will be at liberty. A letter from him will be suf- 
ficient. On the other hand, until he writes, you 
are a prisoner.” 


242 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ Do you acknowledge that this is illegal? ” he 
asked — ^he had now become fairly calm. 

“ Yes/’ I answered, “ it is illegal if it is done 
against your will. But you will admit that you 
haven’t a penny in your pocket; your wife as- 
serts that the money left by the deceased belongs 
to her, as part of her separate estate. So that 
you cannot get away.” 

“ The money is mine,” he said. 

“ Prove it to the probate court,” said I. 

“ I shall do so,” said he. 

“ Very well,” said I, “ let us go to Hjorring 
together.” 

But he wouldn’t do that. 

In short, the end of it was that he — a great ass, 
as I said before — ^became manageable, especially 
as I treated him very kindly and good-humoredly 
— as you know I can. He assured me that he was 
a gentleman, which I assured him I believed. I 
said I did not suspect him of anything, but I was 
obliged to act as I did. Finally, we really became 
good friends; I promised to help him out of his 
difficulties. Let me remark that he does not seem 
inconsolable over his wife’s running away; he evi- 
dently does not believe she will come back. Only 
he would like to go to London. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 243 


The deuce he would ! So would I in his case. 

That’s all. Note that I have not hinted a doubt 
that he is Mr. Weston, and that I haven’t men- 
tioned Cranbourne Grove or the cat. Do as I 
have done, and try first of all how far you can 
go without betraying your knowledge. And for 
goodness’ sake, look after your little heart, Niel- 
sen. For to tell you the truth, it is from that 
quarter that I’m afraid of follies. Do as I do: 
say to yourself that, next to professors of the 
fine arts, women are the most harmful of all 
creatures on earth. For that is what they are. 

Hold your own, young man. 

Your friend, 

Jens Koldby. 

P. S. — I am not a woman, but just as I was go- 
ing to post this letter I got a telegram from Lon- 
don. It contains only three words: ‘Left 
London to-day, Amy D.’ — Hence this postscript. 
Now I have got to hold Mr. Weston tight. 

J. K. 


CHAPTER II 


-r. London, July 7, 19 — . 

Dear Doctor; 

I have received your letter and make haste to 
reply to it. The journey was accomplished suc- 
cessfully. Mrs. Weston is an agreeable traveling 
companion; I am convinced she would say the 
same of me. I have made it my rule not to try 
to press her — yet. It was settled that we should 
go together to London, and I am to accompany 
her to Mr. Armstrong’s. She is staying at the 
Grosvenor Hotel, Victoria Station. I shall stay 
there, too. I have advised Madam Sivertsen of 
my coming to London, and asked her to keep my 
letters. But for the present I don’t want to let 
Mrs, Weston go out of my sight, and I have hold 
of the purse, which is a useful means of securing 
her. It is a curious situation, but we have found 
ourselves in a series of curious situations. I have 
given up making definite plans and trying to ex- 
tend our view of the affair. However, it can 
scarcely be avoided that Mrs. Weston and I visit 
the house in Cranbourne Grove together, and as 
far as I can see, I shall have to speak. I have no 
doubt the murdered man was her husband, in 

S44 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 245 


spite of your ingenious hypothesis about Throg- 
morton, which indeed led me astray for a time. 
As to Major Johnson, neither you nor I are in 
any doubt. From Esbjerg I sent a few words to 
Miss Derry, addressed to the boat at Parkeston, 
which she must have received. That you will 
learn from her. If she is really still infatuated 
with the Major, you must make the best of it, 
but, remember, you answer for them both. As to 
Cranbourne Grove, you must not mention it 
either to her or the Major. As soon as the mine 
is sprung over here — and that it will be sprung I 
have no shadow of doubt — you will have clear 
and brief instructions from me. I feel convinced 
that to-morrow will bring some certainty. But 
you must be prepared to wait three days before 
you get detailed information. I am not inclined 
to write anything until I can see things clearly. 
It would only make you doubtful, and you are a 
man one can safely leave to act according to his 
judgment. This letter, therefore, does not tell 
you much, but you were expecting to hear from 
me. Write to Cranbourne Grove; I shall get let- 
ters there. Telegrams had better be sent to the 
Grosvenor Hotel. Yours sincerely, 

Holger Nielsen. 


CHAPTER III 


Lokken, July 6, 19 — . 
Deak Friend and Fellow-investigator: 

This is an important document. Amy No. 1 
has arrived. Bless the child, she’s a darling. She 
came alone. I did not dare leave my prisoner, 
though Mr. Weston seems to have accepted the 
inevitable. The probate court has made no sign 
at present, but no doubt it will come to-morrow, 
as there is a sort of sessions to be held here. How- 
ever, this pales by the side of what I am going to 
tell you. 

Mr. Weston was summoned after lunch. Miss 
Amy stayed in my room to receive him. He 
came and was identified as — strange though it 
may seem — Mr. Weston. I begin by telling you 
that, because this is a letter, not an exciting novel. 
Both you and I would have staked our heads that 
he was Major Johnson — ^he is Mr. Weston. So 
she is his wife. 

You don’t believe it. I was inclined to doubt 
it; but when the door opened and he entered, Miss 

^46 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 247 


Amy got up and held out her hand with a natural 
and friendly: “ How do you do, Mr. Weston? ” 

I don’t suppose I cut a very sagacious figure, 
and I renounce the attempt to give a detailed ac- 
count of what passed; it was not so very amusing 
either. 

The lady came in a carriage from Vraa, as she 
should; she asked for me, as she should. When 
we came into my room she told me that she had 
had your letter and understood that it was neces- 
sary she should come. She had seen Mr. Arm- 
strong, who, however, told her that he had re- 
ceived a telegram from Mrs. Weston saying she 
was coming to London, and therefore had to 
stay where he was. She had then started alone. 
She understood, as I said, that she had to come. 
Now she only wanted to know why she had to 
come. To this I replied that she would soon see 
that. Then I sent a message to Mr. Weston, 
looking forward to seeing the Major exposed. 
Mr. Weston came, and Amy said: “ How do you 
do, Mr. Weston! ” 

Well, that’s really all there is to tell you. 

He was more sensible than usual; they agreed 
that they had something to talk about, and I felt 
not very sure of my position. For the fact is 


248 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


that my part is played out. Miss Derry thanked 
me for what I had done for her, and virtually 
gave me to understand that she did not want me 
any more. Mr. Weston was beastly polite to me. 
He is slipping out of my hands. And what the 
devil am I to do? Sitting here and looking like 
a fool doesn’t suit me. It’s plain that our guess 
was utterly wrong. But can you tell me why that 
blackguard Throgmorton went about with Mr. 
Weston’s letters from this same Amy in his poc- 
ket-book? 

We must evidently turn our thoughts to the 
man in the cellar. 

Mr. Weston declared that he would appear be- 
fore the probate court. He is quite sure of him- 
self now, the beast. 

And Amy No. 1? 

I shall confine myself to reporting facts; to 
tell you the truth, I’m a little sick of hypotheses, 
otherwise I might feel inclined to make a good 
many about Amy No. 1. Is Amy No. 2 any 
better, I wonder? All the same these good 
people had better take care; I’ll not let go of 
them. 

That’s enough for to-day. Send me some in- 
structions. Yours, Jens Koldby. 


CHAPTER IV 


TELEGRAM 

London, July 8. 
To Dr. Jens Koldby, Lokken. 

Weston, alias Johnson, must be secured, if 
necessary with help of police. Miss Derry in 
collusion with him. Nielsen. 


849 


CHAPTER V 


Mr. Armstrong was rather nervous. Nielsen 
let Mrs. Weston do the talking; he had greeted 
the agent politely, as a stranger, and not a word 
had he said to Mrs. Weston about his acquaint- 
ance with Armstrong. 

And on his side Armstrong had not let fall 
even so natural a remark as that he knew Nielsen. 
It was evident that the agent was determined to 
feel his way and to talk a good deal less than was 
his wont. 

They were all three sitting in the agent’s little 
office in Gloucester Road. 

Mrs. Weston spoke: 

“ This gentleman is a friend I have met in 
Denmark — Mr. Nielsen; he has promised to help 
me about the inheritance. As you know from my 
telegram, my brother has unfortunately lost his 
life in Denmark, and since he, as you know, held 
a power of attorney from us, we are now in an 
embarrassing position. This gentleman knows 
Mr. Weston, and knows that I have a separate 

250 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 251 


estate and that I wish to act for myself. We 
therefore ask you, Mr. Armstrong, to explain 
how things stand. You may speak quite frankly, 
as though you were speaking to me.” 

Mr. Armstrong bowed: 

“ If I understand rightly, this gentleman is a 
lawyer and well acquainted with your affairs?” 

Mrs. Weston spoke very clearly, dwelling on 
her words: 

“ Mr. Nielsen knows Mr. Weston and me from 
Denmark, and only from Denmark; Mr. Nielsen 
knew my brother, but only slightly. What I ask 
you to do, is merely to tell Mr. Nielsen and 
me the position of my late brother’s affairs. 
Nothing more.” 

Mr. Armstrong threw a sharp look at Nielsen. 

Nielsen bent his head without speaking. 

“ I could have wished that Mr. Weston were 
also present,” said Armstrong, rather doubtfully. 

“ I do not desire his presence,” said Mrs. Wes- 
ton. “ All I desire is full information as to my 
late brother’s affairs.” 

Mr. Armstrong cleared his throat. 

‘‘As you wish, Mrs. Weston. Let us begin 
with the house in Cranbourne Grove. I may pre- 
sume that for many reasons it will interest Mr. 


252 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Nielsen. As perhaps you are aware, Mr. Niel- 
sen is the tenant of your house in Cranbourne 
Grove.” 

Mrs. Weston looked up in surprise. “ Mr. 
Nielsen? ” 

Nielsen nodded. 

‘‘ I am the tenant of a house in Cranbourne 
Grove, No. 48, 1 and my friend the Doctor, whom 
you know. If the house you told me about in 
South Kensington is No. 48 Cranbourne Grove, 
then I am your tenant, Mrs. Weston.” 

Mrs. Weston blushed and said with some hesi- 
tation : 

“ It surprises me.” 

Mr. Armstrong felt firmer ground under his 
feet. 

“It can scarcely surprise Mr. Nielsen; Mr. 
Nielsen took the house of me, and I told him it 
belonged to Mr. Weston.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Mr. Armstrong; you told 
me it belonged to Major Johnson. You said 
Major Johnson had bought it of Mr. Throgmor- 
ton, and possibly you mentioned Mrs. Weston’s 
name, or only Mr. Weston’s. Do you remem- 
ber?” 

Mr. Armstrong looked sharply at Nielsen. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 253 


“ You remember, perhaps,” he retorted, “ that 
you pressed me closely on the subject of a young 
lady’s — Miss Derry’s — application to you; you 
remember, perhaps, that I gave you Major John- 
son’s address, that I told you the Major was 
probably staying with Mr. Throgmorton. You 
also remember, perhaps, that you wrote to Miss 
Derry and asked that lady to go to Denmark 
with me in connection with the death of Mr. 
Throgmorton. You will admit in any case that 
I have reason to be surprised at seeing you here as 
Mrs. Weston’s representative when Mrs. Wes- 
ton must be aware that I, as her late brother’s 
man of business, have a claim to her confidence.” 

“ Have you finished, Mr. Armstrong? ” asked 
Nielsen pleasantly. 

“ I wish to know what Mrs. Weston has to say 
to that,” was the agent’s peevish answer. 

Mrs. Weston raised her handkerchief to her 
lips with a little nervous gesture. Then she said; 

“ Keep to the point, Mr. Armstrong. It ought 
not to surprise you that Mr. Nielsen has not 
spoken to me of these things, since he has only 
met my brother, Mr. Weston, and myself in Den- 
mark, and not Major Johnson. I am glad to 
hear that Mr. Nielsen has my house, and it does 


254 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


not surprise me to learn that my brother, who 
could not go straight, thought good to instruct 
you to tell the tenants that the house belonged 
to Major Johnson. You have been an accomo- 
dating agent to my brother, and for that reason 
I tell you plainly that I do not wish to employ 
you.” 

“Is that a challenge, madam?” asked Mr. 
Armstrong, rather red in the face. 

“ That is my intention. You can take it as you 
please. Mr. Nielsen has my confidence. You 
have not.” 

“Has Mr. Nielsen your full confidence?” 
asked Mr. Armstrong doubtfully. 

“ Yes,” was the answer. 

“ Even after you have learned that Mr. Niel- 
sen, without saying anything to you, has re- 
quested Miss Derry to go to Denmark? ” 

“ I do not know Miss Derry,” said Mrs. Wes- 
ton; “ and I take no interest in that lady. You 
were speaking of the house in Cranbourne Grove ; 
will you be good enough to continue? You are 
aware that Miss Throgmorton, my father’s sis- 
ter, left it to me; that I gave my brother power 
to manage it, and that he misused that power. 
You know that, don’t you? You know that 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 255 


Major Johnson did not purchase the house, but 
that I respected the agreement you had drawn 
up, and that I allowed you to manage the house 
nominally for my brother, so as not to bring 
legal difficulties upon him. Now he is dead, and 
now I call upon you to give me your accounts.” 

“ You shall have them,” said Mr. Armstrong. 
“ I shall have a statement drawn up ; no one shall 
accuse me of irregular business methods.” 

“ So much the better,” said Mrs. Weston. 
“ Then my brother’s creditors cannot touch the 
house? ” 

“ Certainly not.” 

“Very well; and my bank shares?” 

“ Are also untouched — of course, with the ex- 
ception of those your brother hypothecated by 
means of what you are pleased to call a forged 
signature.” 

“ Who has those papers? ” asked Mrs. Weston. 

“ Miss Derry has bought them,” said Mr. Arm- 
strong hastily. 

“ Ah! ” Mrs. Weston again put her handker- 
chief to her lips. “ You and Miss Derry seem to 
be good friends. Who is Miss Derry? ” 

“ Mr. Nielsen introduced her to me, madam — 
he is sure to know her better than I do; your new 


256 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


legal adviser will be able to give you all informa- 
tion about the young lady.” 

Nielsen nodded. 

Mrs. Weston continued calmly: 

“ Then it is unnecessary to dwell any longer on 
that. Will you be good enough to have my 
statement got ready, and Mr. Nielsen will go 
through it with me. My brother, then, was quite 
insolvent? ” 

“You know that, madam — ^that is, I have here 
Major Johnson’s power of attorney to collect 
certain amounts for the Major; some amounts 
have come in, and according to the arrangement 
they should have been sent to Mr. Throgmorton 
to his address in Denmark. I have now learned 
that the Major is not in Denmark, and do not 
know what steps I am to take with regard to all 
the matters that concern that gentleman.” 

“ I know nothing about Major Johnson,” said 
Mrs. Weston sharply; “nor do I wish to be 
mixed up in his affairs. Major Johnson does not 
concern me. I wish to have a settlement with 
you. The rest you must arrange with — with the 
police, or with Mr. Weston.” 

Mrs. Weston had risen. 

“ Shall we go, then, Mr. Nielsen?” she said. 


THE MAN IN .THE BASEMENT 257 


Nielsen also rose. 

Mr. Armstrong followed them to the door. 

“ I wish to speak to you, Mr. Nielsen,” he said. 

“ That depends upon Mrs. Weston,” said 
Nielsen decisively. “ I am her lawyer and shall 
act only according to her wishes. Do you wish 
me to confer with Mr. Armstrong, Mrs. 
Weston? ” 

The lady looked at the agent, with a smile. “ I 
am sure Mr. Armstrong will understand why I 
have no confidence in him; but I have not the 
slightest reason for deterring others from honor- 
ing Mr. Armstrong with their confidence. You 
must do as you please, Mr. Nielsen. Only I think 
you ought to talk over with me what we have just 
heard ; and if you agree with me, we ought to go 
to the house in Cranbourne Grove; as the house 
is mine and you have taken it, we are both at home 
there.” 

Nielsen held the door open for her. 

“ I may possibly look in on you this afternoon,” 
he said. 

“Pray don’t put yourself out for me,” said 
the agent. 

He had evidently decided to take a high hand, 
but he had no further chance of making himself 


258 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


disagreeable, since Mrs. Weston and Nielsen left 
him without more words. 

Armstrong was not very well pleased with the 
visit. Mrs. Weston was nervous, and Nielsen — 
Nielsen was not without a certain feeling of 
curiosity. 


CHAPTER VI 


Madam Sivertsen was not a person easily 
moved. Her face, as a rule, was without expres- 
sion — fat and peaceful. She beamed as she 
opened the garden gate to Nielsen; it was the 
broad, happy smile of her native land, the smile 
that seems poetical when you meet it in the guise 
of national songs, and, in any case, it was hon- 
estly meant. 

She started a little on seeing the elegant 
strange lady. But Nielsen smiled and said; 
“ This is my landlady.” 

“Ah,” said Madam Sivertsen, relapsing into 
apathy. “ It is the lady who belongs to the 
house.” 

“ It is,” said Nielsen. 

Madam Sivertsen stepped aside, and down the 
flagged pathway came, with a proud air of pro- 
prietorship, and its tail at an angle of forty-five 
degrees with its body, the domestic animal, the 
cat. 

The national smile appeared again on Madam 
Sivertsen’s broad features. 


269 


260 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ Yes, Mr. Nielsen, you may be sure Puss has 
improved.” 

Madam Sivertsen turned to the lady and said, 
with an indulgent air of good-will, in English; 
“You must know, madam, that this cat really 
belongs to you; the gentlemen call it ‘Amy’s 
Puss ’ ; it was like a hungry ghost when it crawled 
out from the wall here — it is my fault that 
‘ Amy’s Puss ’ has become so fat and sleek. Eh, 
Puss?” 

Puss purred. 

“ Puss really owes me her life and liberty. For 
I must tell you I set her free from the cellar 
under the dining-room, where she was shut in,” 
said Nielsen in a resolute tone. He stood a little 
to Mrs. Weston’s side and observed her care- 
fully. 

Mrs. Weston was deathly pale and trembling. 

“ Shall we go in? ” said Nielsen to her. 

Puss graciously stroked her back against the 
strange lady. 

“ Mr, Nielsen,” said the lady, “ I am not very 
well — I think — I mean, I had better take a cab 
and go to the hotel — I am really not quite 
well.” 

Madam Sivertsen glared at the lady. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 261 


Nielsen lightly laid his hand on her arm and 
said, half in a whisper : 

“ I insist on your staying here — you under- 
stand, I insist.” 

A flush came over her face; then she turned 
pale again, but Nielsen almost forced her into 
the front door. He opened the door of the draw- 
ing-room, and she entered mechanically and took 
a seat in an armchair by the empty fire-place. 

Nielsen was standing before her. 

She hid her face in her hands and began to 
weep. Nielsen kept silence. 

At last she looked up through her tears, 
turned her beseeching eyes upon him in despair, 
and whispered : 

“ So this was it — you have hunted me like a 
wild animal — you, Mr. Nielsen, whom I trusted, 
the only person I trusted in the whole world.” 

This made, as it were, a tug at Nielsen’s heart; 
he seemed to have a vision of the Doctor’s keen 
face with its sarcastic smile. Had the moment 
arrived? Was this a confession? 

“ Mrs. Weston,” he said, “ I don’t understand 
you. — I have not hunted you like a wild animal. 
I am ready to help you now as before; but I de- 
mand one thing — frankness! 


262 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


She wept silently, her whole frame shaken by 
sobs. 

“ Mrs. Weston,” repeated Nielsen, “ be frank; 
whatever has happened, I shall not desert you — 
but I insist on frankness.” 

She looked up. 

‘‘ Later — ^later — I can’t now — ^let me go home, 
let me rest; I am only a woman, this is too much 
for me. If you want to kill me, then kill me — 
but don’t stand there staring at me. I swear to 
you, I am innocent — I am innocent ” 

Nielsen took her hand and looked at her, more 
warmly than Dr. Koldby would have thought 
appropriate to the situation. 

She stood up and threw her arms round his 
neck. 

“ Save me, help me, take me away from this 
place. I love you — do you hear? I will be with 
you always, I will always be yours — I love 
you ” 

And Nielsen felt her cheek, wet with tears, 
against his, felt her burning lips against his own. 

Then he took her in his arms and kissed her 
tears away. 

Madam Sivertsen was displeased — ^very dis- 
pleased; and she became still more so when Niel- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 263 

sen told her that he wanted Dr. Koldby’s room 
got ready for the strange lady. Madam Sivert- 
sen had been engaged to keep house for two 
gentlemen! 

But she was a person of experience, and knew 
how to obey orders. And Nielsen was evidently 
not in the mood to be contradicted. 

The same afternoon the “ couple ” moved into 
Cranbourne Grove. Madam Sivertsen had to 
get everything ready for the strange lady. 

And she did so — but when twilight fell she 
made herself comfortable in her cabin and took 
Puss on her lap. 

‘‘ Pussy,” said she, “ now we have got a lady 
visitor. Now our time is over — our good time is 
over. Oh, how true it is that we women are the 
cause of all the trouble there is in the world I ” 

For Amy’s cat was also a lady. 


CHAPTER VII 


48 Cranbourne Grove, July 15, 19 — . 
Dear Doctor: 

I don’t miss you — let me begin by saying that, 
so that you may be perfectly clear about the 
present situation. I have met my fate, as you 
put it, and if you like you may call me Amy’s 
cat. I love Amy, and Amy loves me. The first 
of these two facts you know already — the sec- 
ond you must take my word for. You were my 
judge — my intellectual superior, cool and saga- 
cious, as you are. So now I send you a report of 
the examination of the accused, Amy Weston, 
made by me; you are to judge of the evidence 
and declare yourself in agreement with me in the 
conclusion I have arrived at as examining magis- 
trate. But first I will permit myself a review of 
the case, so as to give you its bearings ; and I beg 
you to bear in mind these remarks when you 
settle down to the study of the documents. It 
has been a very complicated case, and its differ- 
ent stages have given us occasion for many de- 

264 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 265 


liberations in common. Circumstances have 
obliged me to take the final steps alone; I have 
completed the inquiry, and the case now awaits 
its judicial settlement. 

But let us, nevertheless, recapitulate it — as it 
stands, before the enclosed final examination has 
cleared it up. 

The case has two sides, a theoretical one and a 
practical. It rests upon a fact. On May 4 we 
two found in the cellar of 48 Cranbourne Grove 
the body of a full-grown man; the face was 
unrecognizable, there were few, or indeed, no 
means of identifying the body. On the other 
hand, there was no doubt whatever as to a crime 
having been committed. I understand the word 
crime in its technical sense, an illegal action, 
whereby one or more persons have encroached 
upon the legal privileges of another in such a 
way that the community regards itself justified 
in stepping in and punishing the deed. 

The theoretical side, then, is this: Was it our 
duty, looking upon ourselves simply as human 
beings, to call in the organized forces of Society, 
in this case the London police, and place the 
prosecution of the matter in their hands? 

We debated the question and came to the con- 


266 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


elusion that the matter did not concern us, and 
that we were within our rights in leaving it 
alone. 

But at the same time we agreed that the case 
interested us in its human aspect, and that this 
was an instance where we could follow up the 
case from a purely human standpoint, without 
having recourse to the forces of Society, and 
could determine by means of our inquiry whether 
the ordinary conception of crime was applicable 
here. Thereby we should be able to spare all 
those who would necessarily be exposed to un- 
pleasantness by the normal prosecution of the 
case; we could exclude the public, which only 
does mischief in such matters; we could go 
straight ahead, without following up all the side 
paths which the authorities have to take into con- 
sideration. Finally, we could stop whenever it 
became apparent that the conditions for calling 
in the aid of public justice were fulfilled, or, on 
the contrary, were absent. We kept in view the 
possibility that there might not be a crime in the 
strictest sense of the word. 

We have attained our object. As you will see 
from the documents, the case is now completely 
cleared up; it is a matter of taste whether you 


THE JV. AN IN THE BASEMENT 267 


choose to call the deed that has been accomplished 
a crime or not. The question for you to decide 
is, whether we shall allow the public authorities 
to step in, or whether we shall settle the case, as 
one may say, out of court. 

The practical side of the case is different. We 
found the murdered man, we found the cat, 
which informed us that it belonged to a certain 
‘‘Amy.” We found two Amys, Amy Derry — 
Major Johnson’s Amy — and Amy Weston — my 
Amy. We tracked out the trio, Weston, Throg- 
morton, and the Major. We trusted in Miss 
Derry and kept her outside the case ; we kept Mr. 
Armstrong outside the case, in spite of the sus- 
picion to which his connection with the trio was 
bound to give rise. We followed up the trio 
and found the second Amy. Then the powers 
above mixed themselves up in the affair, stirred 
up a storm in the North Sea and put Throgmor- 
ton out of the game. To be sure, we were not 
certain of his identity. We looked upon Major 
Johnson as the murdered man and the other two 
gentlemen as his murderers. We made a mis- 
take. It was not long before we saw that the 
man who called himself Mr. Weston must be the 
Major. He is the Major, and Mr. Weston is 


268 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

the murdered man, who lies in the cellar here, 
covered with lime. 

That will cause you no surprise. The mur- 
derer’s name you will find out from the enclosed. 
All I want to insist on now is that we have ac- 
complished our task in a practical way. We have 
established the “ crime ” — ^let us call it by the 
technical name — ^with unfailing sureness. We 
have discovered first the murderer and then the 
murdered man; in this case there is no further 
riddle, all is cleared. For Soicety, that is, for the 
police and the courts, there is only one thing to 
be done, namely, to lay hands on the guilty person. 

We have arrived at our result without making 
any arrest, without the hearing of witnesses, 
without interfering with anybody, and we have 
achieved this result in the interval between the 
4th of May and the 15th of July — an interval 
which under the circumstances is very creditable. 

If we now compare our theoretical experiences 
with our practical, we find that by the method we 
have chosen we have achieved a result which is 
excellent from the practical point of view. Theo- 
retically the case is less satisfactory. All the cir- 
cumstances which made us hesitate at the outset 
are still present — or, in any case, a great part of 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 269 

them. Mistakes and inconvenience caused to the 
guiltless — that is, to those who had nothing to do 
with the case — have certainly been avoided, but 
the main question still remains, and it is this that 
I will try to formulate in such a way that you 
may give your judgment in the case. My ques- 
tion to you then is as follows: 

Is there any reason which compels us to lay 
this case before the constituted authorities and 
demand their judgment upon it? 

I put the question clearly, so that it can only 
be answered by yes or no. 

In conclusion I will add: In the course of my 
investigations and of the events that have oc- 
curred while we were following up our clues, I 
have become, in a legal sense, disqualified. Theo- 
retically this amounts to a defeat for us, as it 
shows that the individual is, on account of 
hereditary tendencies and the whole nature of 
mankind, unfit to represent the forces of Society. 
There is nothing new in this, but I want to call 
your attention to the fact. As far as I can see, it 
is one of the unsolved problems of existence, how 
the interests of the person — the ego — are to be 
reconciled to those of Society — the others; we 
meet this question in all the relations of life, and 


270 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


I do not hesitate to declare that, in agreement 
with the famous philosopher, Leibnitz, I should 
be disposed to attempt a solution of the question 
by saying that in every action the ego must be 
the chief consideration. But by laying the ques- 
tion before you for decision, I, in any case, give 
proof of my honest wish to regard the matter also 
from an altruistic standpoint. With this intro- 
duction I leave you to study the documents, 
which I have tried to keep as near to reality as 
possible, so that you may be able to judge the 
situation quite impartially; I have represented 
the judge and the accused as they appear, so that 
the examination is a true picture of what took 
place. 

For the sake of comparison I have kept to the 
technical form — only the witnesses are wanting; 
I could not very well call in Madam Sivertsen, 
and Amy’s cat would have been useless as a wit- 
ness, though she has been a most useful document 
in the case. 

Awaiting your answer, I remain, 

Yours sincerely, 

Holger Nielsen. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Transcript of examination held at 48 Cran- 
bourne Grove, South Kensington, in the County 
of London, in the matter of the finding of the 
body of an unidentified male person in the cellar 
of the said house on the 4th of May of the pres- 
ent year. 

July 12, The court was constituted at 7.30 
o’clock in the evening and was composed of 
Holger Nielsen as self-appointed magistrate, 
without witnesses. There appeared, free from 
restraint or compulsion, Amy Weston, who 
deposed that she was born on the 1st of March, 
18 — , in Trinidad, daughter of the late Dr. 
Charles Throgmorton and his wife, Cecily Jones, 
also deceased. The parents died while the wit- 
ness was a child; she received her education from 
a sister of her mother’s in Trinidad. At the age 
of seventeen she came to London and was re- 
ceived into the house of her father’s sister. Miss 
Jenny Throgmorton, who owned the house in 
Cranbourne Grove, where the court was held. 

271 


272 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


She and her brother, John McGregor Throg- 
morton, three years older than herself, were the 
only children. The brother had completed his 
education at the technical college in South Kens- 
ington, and received an appointment in the en- 
gineering department of the Great Western Rail- 
way Company. The deponent describes him as 
an untrustworthy and dissipated man, who caused 
her and her aunt continual trouble. Finally he 
was dismissed from the service of the railway 
company, and opened an electrical engineering 
business in Lambeth, in partnership with one 
James Weston, who had been a schoolfellow of 
his. Weston, whom the deponent describes as an 
active and energetic man, who seemed to have 
good prospects, was a frequent visitor at the 
house in Cranbourne Grove, as his influence on 
Throgmorton appeared to be a favorable one. 
The deponent’s aunt was generally considered to 
be well off, and often gave it to be understood 
that she intended to leave her property to her 
niece. It was probably this and the instigation 
of her brother that caused Weston to show the 
deponent marked attention; she was then twenty- 
two, and her aunt led a very quiet life, so that 
she had little opportunity of meeting people and 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 273 


forming judgments about them. Therefore, 
when Weston, after an acquaintance of six 
months or so, proposed to her, she accepted him; 
not, indeed, because she loved him, but because 
she felt attracted by him and wished to change 
her state of life — as she herself expressed it. 

Questioned by the magistrate whether she had 
never felt love for anyone, she answered de- 
cidedly in the negative — but added that the 
magistrate was the first and only man she had 
ever loved, and that she felt this love would last 
till the end of her life. 

At this point the magistrate adjourned the in- 
quiry for a few minutes. 

The evidence having been read over and con- 
firmed, the examination proceeded at 8.30 o’clock. 

In answer to the magistrate, the deponent ad- 
mitted that the first years of her married life 
might be described as happy in the ordinary sense 
of the word. Her husband showed her all possi- 
ble consideration, and her brother behaved well. 
The business prospered. Then this business, car- 
ried on by the two brothers-in-law, suffered a 
check; they miscalculated the cost of a contract 
for public work and incurred such severe losses 
that they were obliged to suspend their opera- 


274 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

tions. They succeeded in avoiding bankruptcy, 
but from this time forward they had to struggle 
with such serious difficulties that they used fre- 
quently to hint at the desirability of her aunt’s 
death. They threw themselves into all kinds 
of indefensible speculations, which sometimes 
brought in a profit and sometimes a loss; and 
Weston’s conduct became marked by the same 
irregularities as Throgmorton’s. The relations 
between husband and wife became cool, and 
there frequently occurred between them scenes 
that threatened serious friction. 

This ended in the deponent leaving her home 
in the autumn of 19 — , and going to stay with her 
aunt, who was seriously ill and needed her care. 
About this time Weston and Throgmorton made 
the acquaintance of Major James Johnson of 
the 27th Lancers, who was seconded for special 
service in London. The Major was a young 
man of means, engaged to a young lady. Miss 
Derry, daughter of a prominent London busi- 
ness man; he was trying to increase his income, 
which suffered from his gambling propensities, 
and by means of an agent, Mr. Sydney Arm- 
strong, the newly formed syndicate of three be- 
came involved in a building speculation in a 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 275 


western suburb of London, which ended in a 
scandal, since the three speculators had consider- 
ably overstepped the limit of legitimate opera- 
tions and had caused heavy losses, especially to 
a number of persons of small income. 

Major Johnson was immediately dismissed 
from the Army; Weston and Throgmorton had 
to submit to an inquiry, which, however, led to 
no result, as their transactions were not indict- 
able in law. Mr. Armstrong’s name was never 
mentioned in public. The deponent knew that 
this occurrence resulted in Miss Derry’s parents 
informing Major Johnson that they must insist 
on the breaking-off of his engagement to their 
daughter; but the deponent is at the same time 
aware that the young lady, in spite of this, re- 
tained a warm inclination for the Major, which 
is all the more inexplicable to the deponent, as 
she herself has always felt repulsion for this 
man. Weston and Throgmorton were not long 
in squandering the money made by the building 
scheme, while Johnson, on the other hand, had 
luck at racing, and as the deponent’s aunt died 
just then, and Weston came to the deponent, 
begging her pardon and promising better be- 
havior for the future, besides showing her much 


276 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

kindness at the time, she consented to live with 
him in the house where the court was sitting. 

This, however, she soon regretted. Major 
Johnson now became a constant visitor to the 
house. Quite apart from the feeling of dislike 
he inspired in her, she was all the more disin- 
clined to tolerate his presence on account of the 
impression she had that he was trying, in a very 
unbecoming way and with highly reprehensible 
designs, to force his society upon her. 

In reply to the magistrate the deponent testi- 
fies that she has never entertained other feelings 
for Major Johnson than those here described, 
and that, although he has long pursued her with 
an attachment altogether incomprehensible to 
her, she has always repulsed him with loathing. 

This declaration of the deponent gave rise to 
a short adjournment of the examination, which, 
nevertheless, on account of the importance of the 
matter, was soon resumed. 

The deponent then stated that Weston became 
addicted to drink and dissipation, that Throg- 
morton, her brother, likewise led an irregular life, 
and that the Major, who in contrast to the other 
two, was in every way respectable in his conduct, 
became her constant visitor. She told him 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 277 


frankly her impression that the two men had no 
object but to defraud him of his money, and said 
she felt no interest in him and earnestly begged 
him to withdraw and leave her in peace. The 
Major appeared not to believe in her words, but, 
nevertheless, repeated them to Weston; and it 
was this that caused the scene which, with regard 
to its importance in the case, is given in the de- 
ponent’s own words, as taken down in shorthand 
by the examining magistrate : 

“ I can still remember that terrible evening — it 
was the 28th of April, a cold, wet evening. It 
was eight o’clock; I had turned on the light and 
sat in this room, where we are now, at that table 
by the fireplace where you are sitting. Major 
Johnson sat opposite to me, talking — I distinctly 
remember that he had the cat on his lap — the cat 
you call ‘ Amy’s Puss.’ He took out of his pocket 
a silver chain, which he told me had belonged to 
his fiancee. Miss Derry — whose name is Amy, 
like mine. He was going to put this chain round 
Puss’s neck — to show me, as he said, that his only 
thought was of me. Our only servant had left 
us; we expected a new servant to come in next 
day; we were alone. 

“ Then the door was flung open and Weston 


278 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


came in; he was intoxicated and spoke loudly; my 
brother stood behind him and tried to hold him 
back. I shall not attempt to repeat the words 
that were spoken. The blood froze to ice in my 
veins, so terribly did that man speak, so utterly 
low were his words that I only partly understood 
them. I still remember the last : ‘ Take her, 
James, take the hussy; and if she’s prudish, just 
lick her into shape. I sell you the woman for 
that thousand pounds, you know. That’s her 
price, she’s worth it, and you’re gone on her; for 
all I care she can go to .’ 

“ I sprang up. 

“ Major Johnson had also risen. 

“ I tried to run from the room, but Weston put 
himself in my way; I can still fancy I feel his 
brandy-laden breath in my face, see his staring, 
blood-shot eyes, hear his coarse, rough voice — 
and then it was that it happened. He tried to 
seize me, and I believe — I say, I believe I 
snatched up a steel paper-knife that lay on the 
table and thrust it into his breast — I heard his 
cry — I fell to the ground and remember no 
more. 

“ When I came to myself I was lying on the 
drawing-room sofa. Major Johnson stood bend- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 279 


ing over me. I screamed and clutched with my 
hands. The Major was pale but very calm. 

“‘Mrs. Weston/ said he, ‘you may depend 
upon me, no harm shall come to you. Remem- 
ber that you may trust me. It was I who killed 
him — I did it, you understand.’ 

“ I did not understand him — it was not till 
later that I learned what had happened — learned 
it while my whole being was shaken by terror and 
emotion; and I submitted to what those two 
wanted to do. I made myself my brother’s ac- 
complice — plunged myself into the misfortunes 
from which you alone — you, the only man I love 
— can deliver me.” 

Here the magistrate broke off the examina- 
tion, which, in consideration of deponent’s ex- 
cited condition, could not be continued. It was 
now eleven o’clock in the evening. 

The magistrate remarks here, that at this junc- 
ture he made every conceivable eff ort to calm the 
deponent, and that after the adjournment of the 
examination he continued his efforts, but that he 
by no means lost sight of the responsibility rest- 
ing on him as examining magistrate. 

In view of the peculiar situation he wishes to 
lay special stress on this ; also on the fact that, in 


280 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


view of possible indisposition on the part of the 
deponent, he induced Madam Sivertsen to re- 
move from her cabin and pass the night in a room 
immediately adjoining that of the deponent on 
the first floor. 

The magistrate further remarks that in the 
preceding transcript of the examination he has 
included everything that seems to him to belong 
to the document, and that he has only omitted 
what appears to him of no importance. In con- 
formity with the usual custom, the magistrate 
has not included in the document the proceedings 
which were preliminary to the confession con- 
tained in the above. It is therefore expressly re- 
marked that the examination was opened by a 
conversation between the magistrate and the 
deponent, in the course of which the magistrate 
explicitly informed the deponent of the discov- 
ery of the body which had taken place in, the 
house, and of the facts in connection with it 
which had called attention to her and given rise 
to the charge, which she then admitted to be justi- 
fied — in any case, partly so. 

The magistrate adds that it would have been 
desirable to have a shorthand report of the whole 
sitting of the court, but he is obliged by circum- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 281 


stances to employ an incomplete version of the 
proceedings, which rests upon the reliance placed 
in the magistrate who conducted the examination. 

Examination adjourned — accused remanded — 
Court rose. 


CHAPTER IX 


Continuation of the preceding examination: 

On the 13th of July the Court again met at the 
same place, at eleven o’clock in the forenoon, con- 
stituted as before. Amy Weston again appeared, 
free from restraint or compulsion, and deposed 
as follows: 

“ I passed the night after this event under the 
influence of a sleeping-draught. On the follow- 
ing day, contrary to all expectation, I found my- 
self so well that I was able to take part in a 
consultation between my brother and Major 
Johnson about what had happened. It now ap- 
peared that my brother was not only Weston’s 
equal in infamy, but even surpassed him. Major 
Johnson insisted that it was he who had killed 
Weston, and declared himself willing to take the 
responsibility; my brother tried to make it clear 
to him that this step would only ruin him and 
would do no good to us others. Weston was a 
ruined man, he himself was on the verge of bank- 
ruptcy, and those two had gone so far as to make 
use of my fortune. I was weak and ill; my 
282 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 283 

brother took advantage of my weakness and of 
Major Johnson’s incomprehensible lack of char- 
acter. If the Major had really attacked Weston 
at the same time as I did and given him a wound, 
he as a man should have been able to defend his 
action ; while I shuddered at the thought of police 
and prison. I am only a woman, I let my brother 
do all he proposed to do. My brother then be- 
haved like a scoundrel. He formed a plan by 
which Weston’s infamy was continued after his 
death. He disposed of the corpse — ^how, I did 
not know until yesterday; he got Major John- 
son completely under his influence, partly by hint- 
ing that I should be induced by his chivalrous 
behavior to overcome my aversion for him, partly 
by playing upon the Major’s horror of being 
publicly involved in a scandalous case. My bro- 
ther went so far as to obtain the Major’s agree- 
ment to the latter’s disappearance and to the 
spreading of a report that he had gone to Burma. 
All this he did — as appeared afterwards — in 
order to obtain a power of attorney to use his 
name and so to keep him as the gold-mine he had 
been while Weston was alive. Whether the 
Major had any positive complicity in the steps 
my brother took to conceal Weston’s body I do 


284 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


not know, but I know that from that day began 
that hateful existence which only ended on the 
day my brother was drowned, and the day you 
became mine ” 

In reply to the magistrate the deponent stated 
that she was sure that she and not the Major had 
struck the fatal blow at Weston; that she must 
have heard that the cat had disappeared the night 
after that event, but that she had not given the 
circumstance a thought until the day she again 
visited the house and found the cat. She com- 
pared this with what she had chanced to hear of 
her brother’s actions after the event and what 
had passed at Mr. Armstrong’s. She could now 
understand that the magistrate had followed up 
a clue and that the deed had been discovered; 
nevertheless, she adds that, if she has now made 
a full and free confession, this is entirely due to 
her love for the magistrate, in whose hands she 
places her destiny in this and all else. 

Questioned as to Miss Derry, the deponent 
states that she does not know this lady, but only 
knows that she entertains a strong inclination for 
Major Johnson. The deponent supposes this is 
due to a common interest in racing. She knows 
that Miss Derry has searched for the Major, and 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 285 


that it was partly for this reason that her brother 
insisted on Major Johnson’s going under the 
name of the dead man, Weston. As to the 
Major, deponent asserts that, in spite of his im- 
portunate behavior towards her, his feeble capac- 
ity and his irregularity in money matters, he does 
not appear to her to be a bad man, and that on one 
occasion he has really shown her a certain chival- 
rousness, which was only spoiled by his subsequent 
weakness and submission to her brother. As to 
her brother, she declares that he was in every re- 
spect a corrupt and abandoned person, and that 
she only obeyed him through fear of being in- 
volved in a public scandal, which would not only 
have brought about the discovery of the man- 
slaughter but also of extensive frauds committed 
by him upon the Major and perhaps upon others, 
which were now partly covered by the Major’s 
money. 

After the deponent had declared herself willing 
to acquiesce in everything the magistrate might 
find proper^ the examination was closed at one 
o’clock. 

The Court then rose. 

Transcript certified correct. 

Holger Nielsen. 


CHAPTER X 


“Will you take a seat, Major,” said Dr. 
Koldby, “ and you. Miss Derry, pray be seated.” 

Dr. Koldby had given them both a very urgent 
invitation to appear in his room at the Lokken 
Hotel, and they had duly presented themselves. 

“ Let me begin by saying. Major, that I have 
to-day received a letter from my friend, Holger 
Xielsen, from London. This letter is dated from 
'No. 48 Cranbourne Grove, a house of which, as 
Miss Derry is aware, Mr. Nielsen and I are the 
tenants. The cat discovered in this house, about 
which you. Miss Derry, already know, is Mrs. 
Weston’s; the corpse discovered in the cellar of 
the same house^ about which you. Major John- 
son, have full information, is that of Mr. Wes- 
ton. I assume. Miss Derry, that you will now 
abandon your attempts to aid your former fiance, 
and that you will both lay down your arms. I 
now know all, and I am not going to waste time 
by finding out how much each of you knows or 
does not know. For you. Major Johnson, the 
wisest course is undoubtedly to acknowledge that 
286 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 287 

you are Major Johnson and to put Mrs. Weston 
out of your head. Your wisest course. Miss 
Derry, is to appeal to Major Johnson, and not 
to ‘ Mr. Weston.’ I consider it my duty to give 
you an abstract of the information I have received 
from London, and I beg you to lend me your 
attention.” 

Hereupon Dr. Koldby read out an extremely 
careful selection of the documents Nielsen had 
sent him. 

Miss Derry turned pale and finally burst into 
tears. 

The Major turned yellow and for a brief mo- 
ment looked dangerous. 

Koldby finished his reading and looked up in- 
quiringly. 

“ Now, Major, are you prepared to be escorted 
home to London by the police?” 

The Major blazed up, with all his assurance of 
the other day ; but Koldby took no notice of him, 
and continued calmly: 

“You are not, then; that’s first rate, because 
it’s a thing that I want to avoid. Are you in- 
clined, then, to let Miss Derry escort you home? 
It seems to me she has deserved some considera- 
tion on your part ” 


288 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


Miss Derry blushed, and at this moment the 
Major threw a stolen glance at the handsome 
young woman. 

Koldby continued imperturbably: 

“ I shall now ask you, Major Johnson, to be 
kind enough to confirm the truth of what Mrs. 
Weston has testified, and to sign this declaration, 
which I have drawn up in your own language. 
I will read it to you: 

“ ‘ I, the undersigned, James Johnson, hereby 
declare that I was an eye-witness of the follow- 
ing: that on the evening of the 28th of April last, 
the deceased Mr. Weston, in his house. No. 48 
Cranbourne Grove, London, being in a state of 
intoxication, overwhelmed his wife with abuses 
and laid violent hands upon her, and that his said 
wife, Amy Weston, formerly Throgmorton, in 
self-defence wounded Mr. Weston with a knife, 
which wound caused his death. And I declare 
myself willing, whenever it may be required of 
me, to give evidence of the same on oath before 
a Danish or English court.’ ” 

The Major flushed. “ That means scandal 
and imprisonment.” 

Dr. Koldby shrugged his shoulders. ‘‘ That 
can’t be helped. You have committed an un- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 289 

pardonable fault, and you must pay the penalty; 
however, there is nothing to prevent your making 
this declaration before the local magistrate here. 
I don’t suppose it would lead to any arrest, as you 
are not accused of any crime, and when you have 
made your declaration — you can do it to-morrow 
before the probate court — you will be perfectly 
free to leave here.” 

The Major hesitated. 

“ No,” he said. “ You can have me arrested 
if you like — you won’t get me alive.” 

Miss Derry looked at him through her tears. 

“ Very well,” said Dr. Koldby. “ So you -think 
this step would bring death to you and sorrow to 
this young lady. At the same time you think 
that it will not bring Mr. Weston to life again, 
nor cause just punishment, as people call it, to 
fall upon the two guilty parties, Mr. Weston and 
the drowned Throgmorton. As far as that goes, 
you and I are agreed. But you forget that in 
the cellar at Cranbourne Grove lies a corpse, 
made partly unrecognizable, which may be dis- 
covered at any moment. In that case the ques- 
tion will be raised in spite of all we may do, or 
leave undone. Now that Mr. Throgmorton’s 
affairs are to be wound up, there is every pros- 


290 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 

pect of the house coming into the hands of the 
trustees. There is also a possibility that it may 
be kept outside the estate — but do you think that 
Mrs. Weston and Mr. Nielsen, who are now act- 
ing in common, will destroy the body? If so, let 
me tell you that they won’t. It will, therefore, 
only be a question of time when the matter will 
come up.” 

“Precisely,” said the Major. “Only post- 
pone it for a little while, and I shall be 
gone. And then let them see if they can find 
me.” 

“That is excellent,” interrupted the Doctor, 
“ for you; but Mrs. Weston has a claim on your 
evidence. She does not want to be convicted, and 
she is guiltless of the only crime that has been 
committed — namely, that of concealing the 
body.” 

“ So am I,” said the Major. “ Throgmorton 
did that by himself.” 

“ Throgmorton is dead,” interposed the Doctor 
shortly. “ In any case you have been living here 
for a couple of months under the murdered man’s 
name.” 

“ And for that I am willing to go into exile,” 
said the Major. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 291 


“And I’ll go with him,” added Miss Derry 
pluckily, blushing as she said it. 

Dr. Koldby smiled. “ This is all very nice. 
Miss Derry; I admire you, and I should be glad 
to help the Major, even if you have both been 
caught in an attempt to throw dust in my eyes, 
only I don’t see how I can justify myself to Mrs. 
Weston and Nielsen.” 

“Doctor,” said Miss Derry shamefacedly, 
“ the Major will sign the first part of your decla- 
ration, and then we’ll go away. Then if Mrs. 
Weston wants to appeal to justice, don’t you 
think it’s reasonable to suppose that justice will 
turn out to be just? ” 

“ It may be reasonable,” said the Doctor, “ but 
it’s not at all likely.” 

“ Then I should let the body stay in the cellar 
and not bother about justice,” said Miss Derry. 

“ So would I,” said the Doctor, “ without a 
doubt. But you see, Nielsen won’t. He’s a law- 
yer and a criminalist and all that.” 

“ But he loves her.” Miss Derry blushed 
again. 

“ Love is an uncommonly fine thing,” said the 
Doctor; “but one’s duty to Society has to come 
first.” 


292 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ I should have burnt that body — why didn’t 
Throgmorton burn it? ” she asked, rather doubt- 
fully. 

“ I can assure you, Miss Derry, that I wish 
nothing better than that he had done so, though 
in that case I don’t believe you would have found 
this man here. If only Society were arranged at 
all rationally, the whole thing would be simple as 
ABC. But all this confounded institution of 
justice makes us obliged to act in defiance of it, 
simply to achieve our legitimate objects. I won’t 
act Providence. Do as you please. Give me that 
declaration, which, of course, is of no use what- 
ever, because it hasn’t got the legal rigmarole, 
and then clear out, go as far as you like.” 

To this they soon agreed, and the Major signed 
the declaration. 

As they were about to leave the room the Doc- 
tor checked them. “ One moment,” said he, as 
he pulled out of a drawer the watch he had found 
on the drowned man. The Major and Miss 
Derry turned round. 

“You see this?” said the Doctor; “this was 
really the key to the riddle — the watch we found 
on Throgmorton’s body. I must tell you that 
Nielsen and I have been guilty of one or two lit- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 293 


tie irregularities ; trifles such as robbery of corpses 
and so on. But now you had better take the 
watch and let the probate court keep the twelve 
hundred crowns; and if this is all you have on 
your conscience, it is a fairly healthy one.’’ 

Thus it was settled, and on the following day 
‘‘Mr. Weston” and Miss Derry left Lokken 
together under the nose of the probate court 
and of the scandalized colony of visitors. 


CHAPTER XI 


Lokken, July 19, 19 — . 

Dear Friend: 

I have received the documents in the case. 
You have yourself chosen the part of magistrate, 
that is your business; you have appointed me 
judge, made me the superior authority who has 
to decide whether the case is to be gone on with 
or not. My dear sir, you go too far. The gods 
be praised! I am no lawyer; that is the last thing 
I could have been. I protest against the duty 
you put upon me. I will not undertake it. 

I admire your examination; I have not much 
difficulty in filling in the pauses, and if I were 
young enough, I should envy you; youth and 
love are the only things I envy. You see, I am 
sitting here, on this barren shore, like an old gray 
crow, with my hoarse and ominous cry. So now 
you know everything; you have settled who the 
murdered man is, and you have settled who is 
the murderer. Didn’t I tell you it was woman’s 
work? The two lovers — ^in spite of the precau- 

294 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 295 


tion of Madam Sivertsen’s change of quarters, 
a sacrifice to the spirit of British respectability, 
which I acknowledge but do not admire — are 
evidently on the point of making a match of it. 
I can supplement this by telling you that after 
an interview in my room. Major Johnson seems 
to be going to take pity on the faithful Amy No. 
1, whom I always — ^you must excuse me this — 
have admired as much as it is possible for me to 
admire anyone of the female sex. 

Thus the whole story appears to be finished; 
all the actors are disposed of as they ought to be 
in every story that ends properly. 

And yet the most important of all is not dis- 
posed of. 

The ‘‘ man in the basement ” — ^the corpse in 
the cellar! 

A wise man of old time, whose name I forget, 
said that it is the dead who rule us mortals. They 
encumber our earth ; they continue to live in their 
actions; they lay their bony hands upon us; they 
command, and we must obey. That is true; the 
dead made our laws, the dead claim our obedi- 
ence, they determine our course — they rule. 

The dead man in the cellar is not disposed of. 
What now? You ask yourself what is to be done, 


296 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


you are good enough to leave the decision to me. 
I decline to decide upon the case, I return a ques- 
tion to you. 

What is to be done now? 

Major Johnson and his Amy begged me so 
imploringly to preserve them from the dead man. 
I protested on behalf of your Amy, but I had to 
admit that it was absurd to ruin the lives of two 
human beings out of consideration for so-called 
justice, which is in the power of the unlamented 
dead. He was a scoundrel, he got his deserts, he 
cannot come to life again, as a dead man he has 
no claim to judicial vindication. But Society, all 
right-minded people will say. Society has that 
claim. I have exempted the Major and Amy 
from rendering an account to Society. They 
have gone; I did not ask for their address ; I don’t 
know where they went. Forgive me this. A 
scrap of paper, on which he wrote down what he 
had seen, is all I have ; and, though I am no law- 
yer, I don’t believe it is of any real value. For 
it would be such a reasonable thing to attribute 
weight to this piece of evidence, that I am sure 
no court of justice would do so. The courts, as 
we know, only attribute weight to things that 
ordinary people regard as perfectly indifferent. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 297 


But if the dead man has to let the Major go, 
he will hang on to you or your Amy. And with 
good right, Society will say. She murdered him 
— killed him, let us say — and she must stand face 
to face with Society and answer for her deed. 
When a human tribunal has acquitted her, she 
will be free, not before. The justice we inherit 
from the dead demands that of her. 

You know that; you are a lawyer, and you 
understand that the corpse which lies in the cel- 
lar at Cranbourne Grove has rights that you and 
she must respect. As a man, you know that every- 
thing is in order; as I said, everyone is disposed 
of. Weston fell as a result of his actions ; no one 
has any interest in hearing anything about him; 
Throgmorton is dead, his guilt is wiped out, since 
the world cannot or dare not pursue the dead, 
who rule over it. No one has anything to gain by 
this case being followed up, and yet the dead man 
claims his rights ; Society and the living demand 
that justice shall take its course, the justice that 
can kill the happiness of two innocent living 
persons. 

The corpse in the cellar must be disposed of. 
Miss Derry, in her womanly ignorance, talked 
about destroying it; being a woman, all she said 


298 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


was that it would have been splendid if Throg- 
morton had destroyed it. And, of course, every 
other woman in the world, whether in trousers or 
not, would say the same thing; but as the case 
stands, they would all with one voice demand 
that the law should take its course. 

The law means a trial for murder for your 
Amy, a trial that would bring her suffering and 
place her destiny in the hands of an entirely in- 
different and fortuitous handful of men. 

My dear sir, lawyer, vindicator of justice, 
whatever you like to call yourself — I said the 
story was done; it is only just beginning. You 
wished to avoid the inconveniences of a public 
prosecution of the case; I kept you up to it, and 
you avoided them; it was difficult, but it was done. 
Now you stand exactly where you did when you 
began. You can no longer avoid it; you really 
can’t. 

What you think I don’t know; you are young 
and inconsistent; besides, you used some oily 
words about challenging the verdict of Society, 
which always made me sick; as you know, noth- 
ing is more indifferent to me personally than the 
verdict of Society. 

But you? 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 299 


To my mind, this case contains the one lesson, 
that we human beings have surrounded ourselves 
for our protection with something we call justice; 
something we ourselves have provided, as we 
have provided soldiers and cannon; something 
that has no intrinsic justification, does not rest 
upon itself, as we may say, but only exists for 
our protection, and which may become our enemy 
when we cannot control it ourselves, each one of 
us personally for himself. It is a watchdog 
which may turn its teeth against the flock it was 
intended to guard. Therefore do not speak of 
justice, but of a useful human institution, which 
is only defensible so long as it acts according to 
its objects. The rights of the dead Weston are 
nothing in themselves; the most one can say is, 
that Society, for its own protection, may demand 
to have the circumstances clearly set forth; but 
I leave it to you to decide whether this general 
observation has its justification in your special 
case. And even when you have settled this, 
Weston’s corpse will still be lying in the cellar 
beneath the house which should shelter your new- 
found happiness. 

It cannot be left to lie there ! 

I protest against and refuse the task you have 


300 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


appointed me; I will not decide what you are to 
do in this case. I will only address this question 
to you: Have you the courage to complete 
Throgmorton’s work, have you the courage to 
spare your Amy by obliterating Weston’s body 
from the realm of facts, whether by burning or 
by burial? 

Have you courage for that — or do you con- 
demn, with the remainder of living, upright 
Society, the deed which it would call a crime? 
Consider and admit that only now is the case 
really beginning for you. Hie Rhodus — hie 
salta! Your friend, 

Jens Koldby. 

P. S. — I’m a lover of clearness and thorough- 
ness, so let me add here what the heat of argu- 
ment made me forget before. Your statement 
of the case contains nothing about Amy’s cat. 
You ought to have cleared up this not unimpor- 
tant point. The cat as well as its collar was Amy 
Derry’s. She had received it as a present from 
the Major, and sent it back to him to remind him 
of his allegiance. It seems to me that of every- 
one concerned, the cat comes best out of it, it has 
really accomplished something worth talking 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 301 


about. I therefore wish to establish the fact that 
Miss Derry has given it to me. So now it is my 
cat, as you will please retnember. She says it be- 
longs to a very choice breed. So does the lady 
— her name is now Mrs. Johnson. J. K. 


CHAPTER XII 


“ Amy,” said Nielsen, as he laid the Doctor’s 
letter on the table in the drawing-room at Cran- 
bourne Grove, where they were sitting after 
lunch, “here is a letter from Denmark from 
Dr. Koldby. I won’t read it to you, as you don’t 
know my friend and would not be able to judge 
of his words. But he is right. There is a dead 
man in the cellar of this house — a dead man who 
has not been disposed of. He has waited quietly 
and patiently for three months — waited as the 
dead can wait. Now he demands that we should 
act — demands it with all the authority of the 
dead.” 

Amy looked up ; there was sorrow in her eyes 
— sorrow and silent horror. But she said 
nothing. 

Nielsen continued: “When my friend and I 
found this dead man we formed an unusual reso- 
lution. We acted according to a theory — my 
theory, and every step we took led us on the right 
way. But at the same time the dull, gray theory 

302 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 303 


gave way to bright, green life. Now it is life 
alone that decides our actions, theory is silent. 
Not for a moment have I forgotten that the dead 
man represents a right, not the right of the dead, 
but of the living — of Society. I understand and 
acknowledge that Society has a right to demand 
that no deed by which a living person becomes a 
dead one shall be arbitrarily concealed before 
being presented to the public judgment. Don’t 
you see, Amy? don’t you feel as I do, that we 
cannot deny Society its right, we cannot, as the 
Doctor writes, destroy all traces of what has 
taken place in this house? ” 

Amy made no reply. 

Nielsen went on: “ It is an instinct which is 
born in us, and grows with us. Let it be granted 
that we both see that yow acted justifiably when 
you struck him down. Or, if we have doubts of 
that, let us grant that what you did in that mo- 
ment was not a crime. I believe that if you stood 
face to face with the men who by the laws of the 
land are our judges, and told them all you have 
told me, and awaited their judgment, they would 
say: ‘ Go thy way, woman, we condemn thee not.’ 
But both you and I feel that we must challenge 
that judgment, do we not?” 


304 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“ No,” said Amy. “ No — I have told you all; 
you understand me, but you cannot ask that I, 
the innocent, the defenceless one, shall expose 
myself to the gaping crowd, submit to the chance 
verdict of indifferent strangers? I feel that I 
am guiltless. What weight, then, should there 
be in the verdict of others? You understand me 
— and you say you love me.” 

Nielsen knelt at her feet and took her hand. 

“ My Amy,” he said, ‘‘ you are right, you are 
guiltless. But now rise and go down there — 
where the corpse lies below our feet — destroy it, 
burn it. You understand, wipe it out of exist- 
ence. Do that, Amy, with your own hands.” 

She shuddered and bowed her head upon his 
shoulder; he felt her tears upon his cheek, while 
she whispered: 

“ I cannot, Holger — I cannot.” 

He kissed her eyes. 

“ Amy,” he said mournfully, “ you cannot do 
it, and therefore it must not be done. I could do 
anything in the world for you; even the hardest 
thing would be easy if I did it for you. But this 
I cannot do. I could explain it away, I could 
find plenty of charges against that Society which 
will bring trouble to you and me by its demands. 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 305 


But as to the deed itself, I should hesitate, as you ; 
I should say, as you, that I cannot do it. For me 
the inner voice is the supreme director of my ac- 
tions. I feel what is right, I feel what is wrong, 
and before this feeling thoughts and words are 
silent. You and I are one. What I do for you, 
I do for myself; if I could save you from con- 
viction by doing this, I could not do it ; I could 
not act as you — and I feel that we cannot.” 

“ And if my life was at stake? ” she whispered. 

Nielsen looked up. 

“ There is no question of your life, you know 
that. There is only a question of consideration 
for all the others, a consideration to which we can 
rise superior — as we shall. We cannot lay down 
rules for what a person shall do under all circum- 
stances. Whoever tries to do so breaks down. 
The founders of religions have tried this, and 
from that has resulted the fallacy of every doc- 
trine, the fight between truth and falsehood. We 
men must look at each separate case by itself, as 
we must look at this. This is not so profound, 
not so comprehensive, but it is true human nature. 
The question for us at this moment is not: Has a 
person the right* to save the one he loves, to cheat 
Society of what he owes it? We cannot put the 


306 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


question in that way, we must put it far less com- 
prehensively. The question is, Have I the right 
to destroy Weston’s body in order to save you a 
trial? Only by seeing each little thing as the lit- 
tle thing it is can we men have a clear idea of 
what we ought to do. Let priests and poets talk 
about universal rules — doctors, lawyers, and ordi- 
nary people must take each single case by itself, 
as we must take this.” 

“Let us go abroad,” said Amy: and Nielsen 
felt how she was trembling as she again pressed 
her cheek against his. 

He shook his head. “We cannot do that. 
There is only this to be done — to speak out and 
await the verdict of Society, or to keep silence 
and burn the body. You know what you feel we 
ought to do — ^you feel as I do. We shall never 
be free of this if we fail now. No one with im- 
punity can disobey the voice within. When an 
action is accomplished it can generally be de- 
fended; perhaps this action, too, could be 
defended afterwards, when what was done could 
not be undone; but now, the dead man lies in the 
cellar beneath our feet; he is waiting, and you 
and I must act. We have no need of defence. 
What we need is to feel assured that we are act- 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 307 

ing rightly. And you and I know how we are to 
act to be acting rightly. Believe me, Amy, the 
proof of the justice of Society’s claim is only to 
be found when the individual asks himself and 
receives the same answer from within as from the 
thousand voices of his fellows.” 

“And the shame?” she whispered. “The 
shame of standing face to face with all these peo- 
ple! Oh, Holger, Holger, you must be able to 
feel how awful it is! ” 

“Amy,” said Nielsen, putting his arm round 
her waist, “ I once spoke to a club of young 
Social Democrats about crime and punishment. 
One of them put the question to me, whether I 
meant that all administration of justice ought to 
be public, and I answered that I did mean it. 
Still, I explained, I could imagine that a young 
woman who had been injured by a man might 
have a claim that the public should not learn any- 
thing about it — because of the shame, as you say, 
which may fall upon the innocent as well as the 
guilty. And the young workingman answered: 
‘ Ought we not to educate Society only to feel 
shame when an action has been committed which 
in itself deserves shame?’ And I said nothing, 
for the young man was right.” 


308 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


“But poor people live so much with one 
another that they can conceal nothing,” said 
Amy. “ You understand that I, who have lived 
so much out of the world, feel that the shame 
may fall upon me, even when I am the injured 
one. I beg you, Holger, do this for me, for our 
love’s sake.” 

Nielsen had risen — she rose, too, and threw her 
arms about his neck. 

“ Save me, Holger, save me for the last time 
from that terrible man and the evil he will do 
me.” 

Nielsen freed himself; he took her hands in his 
and kissed them one after the other. Then he 
bent down and kissed her forehead, her eyes, her 
mouth. 

“ Amy,” he said, “ I am by your side; if I re- 
fuse to listen to the voice within me I shall not 
only be false to myself, I shall be false to you. 
Come, this very day we will go to the authorities, 
and you will see — as soon as we have spoken our 
burden will be gone. We shall not do this be- 
cause Society rules us with its laws, but because 
we feel ourselves in agreement with the spirit 
that sustains co-operation between man and man, 
each for himself and for all the rest.” 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 309 


There was a ring at the front door. Madam 
Sivertsen came into the room. 

“ Mr. Nielsen,” she said, “ here is a telegram.” 

Nielsen took it and read it; it was from Dr. 
Koldby. 

Amy had her eyes fixed upon him ; her cheeks 
burned; then she said hoarsely: 

“ Before you do this, Holger — speak to him — 
let me speak to him.” 

Nielsen smiled. “ Do you know what he says? 
Only this : ‘ Meet me to-morrow evening at 
half -past seven, Southwestern Hotel, South- 
ampton.’ ” 

Amy took his hand. “Do that, Holger — do 
that, before you do the other ” 

Nielsen made no reply; but the next morning 
he had his bag packed and asked Amy to ac- 
company him to Southampton. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Madam Sivertsen started as she opened the 
door and saw Dr. Koldby. 

“Bless me! you here. Doctor? Why, Mr. 
Nielsen has gone off to-day to Southampton to 
meet you. The lady has gone, too. You know 
the lady, don’t you? ” 

“ I know the lady,” said the Doctor, who was 
rather short-spoken and seemed to Madam Siv- 
ertsen very excited. “ I had my reasons for ask- 
ing Nielsen and the lady to go to Southampton. 
Now I am going to ask you. Madam Sivertsen, 
to go down there at once, this very evening, and 
give Nielsen this letter — give it to him personally, 
you understand. There’s a train at six from 
Waterloo. You can catch it if you get ready at 
once. You will be doing me a great service, you 
understand — a great service by doing this.” 

Madam Sivertsen was taken aback, but, as be- 
fore remarked, she was accustomed to do as she 
was told, and at six o’clock the express steamed 
away with her in it. 

The Doctor was left alone at Cranbourne 


310 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 311 


Grove. He sat in the drawing-room with the cat 
on his lap and held a little oration. 

“ Amy’s Puss,” said he, “ you are a poor cat 
that nobody cares for. You have a good deal on 
your conscience, but if it came to light the whole 
world in its devout simplicity and in agreement 
with its traditions would exclaim that you were 
sent straight from headquarters with a silver col- 
lar on your neck in order that what has been 
sinned in secret might be proclaimed from the 
housetops. I won’t take your glory from you. 
Puss. I am a poor man, who do my best to act 
in a human way; I disregard generalties and 
keep to the single point. The responsibility, lit- 
tle Puss, I take upon myself. I have always 
done so, and I intend to go on doing so. But 
you and I, Puss, we must keep together, you 
know.” 

Puss arched her back and purred. But Dr. 
Koldby remained sitting a long while in deep 
thought. At last he got up with a start. 


CHAPTER XIV 


Madam Sivertsen found Nielsen and Mrs. 
Weston at the hotel at Southampton. They were 
expecting the Doctor and were surprised to see 
her. 

Nielsen opened the letter and started. It con- 
tained these words: 

Dear Nielsen: 

Come back to London to-morrow morning — 
you cannot come sooner. Take Madam Sivert- 
sen with you and her you have chosen — as the 
saying is. Take my best wishes with you on your 
way towards life’s sunshine. I liked you, I liked 
you very much; now you are out of my life. 
Only one piece of advice. Drop that confounded 
justice, give up the law. It’s only fools who 
think they can reduce justice to a system; who 
believe in a rational justice, when there is noth- 
ing but a miserable system of expediency to be 
used in the wretched service of humanity. Seek 
the truth and happiness in life. Seek them with 

312 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 313 


her. Quit “justice” of the inferior earthly 
manufacture, the only one we men can find. 

Be happy, Nielsen. Stay here, it is a nice, 
comfortable house with many memories. There 
is lots of room below there. You can take your 
bride down and show her round, there is nothing 
to frighten her; what there was is gone^ and that 
is my doing. Miss Derry gave me the idea. Now 
it is done, and no man on earth can make it un- 
done. The Major and Miss Derry have gone 
away to seek happiness. Help them in that. 
That is a thing we men need not be ashamed of 
doing. I myself am going away; I will not meet 
you yet — perhaps some time a long while hence. 
Only let me tell you, I will not go away alone; 
I am taking with me the only one who could be- 
tray me — Amy’s cat. 

Farewell, 

Your friend. 


Jens Koldby. 


CHAPTER XV 


In the far west of Cornwall, among granite 
rocks and wild moorland, lies Sennen Cove, a 
little fishing village, near the Land’s End. West 
of the cove the cliffs of Pedn-men-du — Black 
Stone head — thrust themselves out among the 
waves of the Atlantic, which dash against the 
boulders at their foot. Here there arrived, one 
afternoon in July, a foreign painter, a Dane, 
who took up his abode in a little cottage near the 
cliff. 

His luggage came in a cart from Penzance. 
Besides his portmanteau, easel, and color-box, it 
consisted of an immense packing-case, which 
contained (so he said) a piece of sculpture, for 
he practiced that art as well as painting. It was 
the statue of a young woman, a work he loved, 
the masterpiece of his life. 

The painter was accompanied by a well-con- 
ditioned tabby cat, which went by the name of 
“Amy’s Puss.” The natives of the place were 
used to the visits of “ painter fellows,” and took 

314 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 315 


little notice of them; they saw no reason for dis- 
tinguishing the new arrival from other “ foreign- 
ers ” from outside Cornwall : all were heathen 
folk and equally mad. The packing-case had a 
room to itself at the cottage and was never un- 
packed. 

One day when a northwesterly gale was rag- 
ing against the cliffs the painter secured the 
services of a fisherman and a wheelbarrow, and 
with their help got the packing-case to the edge 
of the cliff, from which he hurled it with his 
own hands into the seething depths beneath. It 
dashed the spray high into the air and sank to 
the deep rocky bottom. 

This adventure only confirmed the fisher-folk 
in their opinion that the painter fellow was mad 
— ^madder, indeed, than the rest of his kind — but 
the event was soon forgotten in the round of their 
daily work, and the sunken statue was left 
among what wreckage and relics of smuggling 
days might lie in the deep water below the cliff. 

Meanwhile Dr. Koldby left the village and 
wandered far to foreign shores — and Amy’s cat 
went with him. 


CHAPTER XVI 


It was Mr. Sydney Armstrong who sold the 
house, No. 48 Cranbourne Grove; a young 
painter bought it, as it suited him exactly and it 
was not dear. Mrs. Neilsen sold it, and went 
abroad with her husband, the young Danish law- 
yer, Holger Nielsen, whom no one knew or asked 
about. 

They, too, crossed the sea, to visit the New 
World, where she saw once more her childhood’s 
home in the West Indies. There they found sum- 
mer and sunshine, and were happy in their love. 

Amy did not quite understand how it had hap- 
pened — she did not wish to ask questions — ^but 
one summer night under the deep blue sky of the 
tropics she spoke. 

“ Holger,’ she said, “ why were you so much 
in earnest about — about what you said that day, 
when I cried and entreated you — and now you do 
not think any more about it? ” 

Nielsen put his arm around her waist and said 
with a smile: 


316 


THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 317 

“ You surely didn’t expect me to go to the 
police and say: There was a dead man in the cel- 
lar of my house, he is there no longer, my friend 
Dr. Koldby has unlawfully removed him? ” 

Amy moved a step away. 

“ For your friend’s sake you would forbear, 
but my prayers were not enough to hold you 
back before — when you talked about the rights 
of Society.” 

“ Silly little girl,” said Neilsen. “ Have you 
forgotten the inner voice, the voice of which I in- 
quired? It is silent now, is it not? And do you 
know why? Because we men and women cannot 
expect an answer to every question we ask. The 
voice within us speaks only of one single thing — 
a thing which is. When Jens Koldby acted in 
a way that he must himself justify to his own in- 
ner voice, he took this question away from us. 
You feel that, don’t you? I find only one lesson 
attached to the dead man of Cranbourne Grove, 
namely, that we who occupy ourselves with what 
is called law and justice must give up all hope 
of finding a golden rule. There is no such thing, 
but only a series of separate cases which must be 
judged one by one; for each human being the 
object must be to act rightly, as he feels himself 


318 THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 


to be acting rightly, and this series of righteous 
actions makes up the sum of justice.” 

Amy did not altogether understand him. 

But he took her in his arms and said with a 
smile: “One lesson, I said — ^yes, that is all; but 
as a memorial of his death I won you, and you I 
shall keep, by the right of love.” 

So those two went forward to find happiness 
together. 


7I 8 


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